Outside of the Box
by Nine1
Summary: Popular Takeru has always had everything going for him, but when a mysterious boy shows up at the school one day, Takeru finds himself being drawn to the boy. Soon, he turns Takeru's world upside down. Kenkeru.
1. In Which We Are Introduced To Ken

A/N: And here, at last, is my first attempt at writing Kenkeru as a main (and only) couple in a fic. Eh, I might consider maybe throwing another in, and, in fact, I think I know of another couple that would fit in quite nicely, but I'll decide for sure later on. This was inspired by the book What Happened to Lani Garver, which is one of my favorite books, Lani Garver being my most favorite character in any book I've ever read (just as a note, Ken represents Lani in this fic). I don't know if all the digidestined will be making an appearance in this fic or not. 

If you have never read What Happened to Lani Garver, I highly recommend you pick it up at a bookstore or check it out of a library and read it, because it's just awesome. (Especially if you like the way Ken is portrayed in this fic. Lani reminded me so much of Ken when I was reading that book that it scared me. You know, beautiful, girly, and a total genius. And that guy on the book cover...**drool**)

Note: This fic is AU. Takeru, Hikari, and the others in their age group are sixteen. Taichi, Sora, Mimi, etc. are seventeen. Takeru and Yamato are not brothers. Yamato doesn't appear until later on in the story, but it won't be too long until he does. Along with certain others. ^-~

Summary: Ken Ichijouji's arrival in Odaiba was unexpected, and creates a bit of a stir in the town. He baffles the other kids in his school and the people in the city. They don't know anything about him. Where did he come from? How old is he? And most of all: Is he a boy or a girl? Popular Takeru isn't up for tormenting Ken with his friends and classmates, and he soon finds himself befriending this strange-but-interesting outcast. Soon, Takeru finds that his world is turning upside down.

Disclaimer: I don't own What Happened to Lani Garver, in which most of the ideas in this fic come from. I don't own Digimon or the characters, either, though I wish I could own Lani for a day, if just to have a conversation with him.

I grumbled when my hand hit the alarm clock too hard and sent it flying off the nightstand. I poked my head out from under my blanket and narrowed my eyes at the clock on the floor. Luckily, it had landed face-up, and I could make out the numbers glowing red amongst the gray carpet on my floor. 

Yes, it was time to get up.

I turned a lamp on and got dressed, then made my way around the house getting ready for the school day. I got to the school with plenty of time to spare and headed towards the gym, where I usually gathered with my friends to talk before school started and we had to split to go to our respective classes. 

As usual, my friends were already gathered there, talking excitedly about the previous night's basketball game. I grinned when they all turned to greet me and congratulate me for playing such an awesome game. I took a bow and they all laughed, some whistling, and others telling me to cut it out. 

I straightened and went to stand next to Hikari, who had been my best friend since middle school. She smiled warmly at me and rested her hand on my shoulder.

"You were so wonderful last night, Takeru. I wouldn't be surprised if the coach made you captain of the basketball team. You know, you're even better than most of the seniors on the team, and you're barely a sophomore!"

I laughed and shook my head, used to the compliments she always paid me. 

"And you, of course, will be named Head Cheerleader pretty soon. Taking that gymnastics class over the summer really paid off, 'Kari. No one can flip as well as you can."

She giggled and blushed slightly, waving her hand at me. "Oh, stop it."

The bell rang, warning students that they had better get to class if they didn't want to be late, and we all disengaged to walk to our own classes. 

It was turning out to be another normal day of school, and I couldn't help but feel a slight pang of boredom as I walked to my next class. I wondered if anything exciting would ever happen to me.

I had no idea that I would be meeting Ken Ichijouji for the first time that day, nor did I know that the meeting would eventually turn my entire world upside down.

~ ~ ~ ~

I sat down at the lunch table, taking a deep breath and grinning.

"Finally, time to eat!" I said happily. Lunchtime, besides my sports class, was my favorite time of the day. 

Taichi Yagami grinned at me from across the table. "You just love to eat, don't you, Takeru?"

"Of course I do," I said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. 

I began to tear open the plastic encasing my napkin, straw, and spork, eager to dig into my food, no matter how odd-smelling it was. My stomach was grumbling, and I couldn't care less if I had no idea what it was that was sitting on the lunch plate in front of me.

I had just taken my first large bite out of my sandwich when Hideki, a geek that sat a few seats in front of me in my math class, stopped on his way by our table and turned to point across the lunch room.

"What is _that_?"

I raised an eyebrow and considered just ignoring the boy, but then I looked up at Taichi and saw that the brunette was openly gawking at whatever Hideki was pointing at. Seeing this, I just had to look, and I turned my head to see what was drawing all of the attention.

Sitting alone at a table on the outer rim of the sea of lunch tables in the cafeteria was a kid with long, violet hair, holding a book and reading it, turning a page delicately. The kid wore a light gray shirt, a silver watch on the right wrist, and several beaded bracelets around and nearly covering the watch. I couldn't see what else he was wearing because of the table and the book being held up. 

"Is that _thing_ a boy or a girl?" Hideki asked, loud enough to be heard by all of the people at the "cool" table. 

Hikari tore her gaze away from the kid first, snapping at us all not to stare because it was rude, but she kept glancing up at the kid anyways. She turned to glare at Hideki.

"And how is it any of your business, anyways? Scoot on away from here! Go, scoot!" She waved her hand. Hideki narrowed his eyes at her and stalked off.

"It's a boy," Miyako said, now that Hideki was gone. We all leaned into the table to throw our own comments in.

"I think it's a girl," Taichi argued.

"No, I agree with Miyako," I said slowly, although I was actually very unsure.

"Would you quit calling it an _it_?" Hikari asked a bit tersely.

"Well, what are we supposed to call it? We don't know _its_ gender!" Taichi snapped back at his little sister.

"Come on, don't yell at her," I told Taichi, getting defensive the way I always do whenever he yells at her because of some need to be a good older brother by establishing who was under whom.

"Oh, don't you start, Gilligan."

I frowned, my hand reaching up to touch my white hat.

"Fuck you."

"Don't swear, Takeru, it makes you blush," Miyako murmured, still staring at the person we'd been discussing. "Oh, he's getting up!"

"_She's_ getting up."

"Shh!"

We all turned to watch a bit too openly as he walked past us, holding the book at his side, to go throw his plate. I managed to get a look at him as he approached. He had violet eyes to match his hair, with long eyelashes that made me think, 'Girl.' But then I noticed that his clothes were baggy and loose. 'Boy.'

"He looks like he's wearing blush and eyeliner," Miyako whispered loudly. I checked - she was right. 'Girl.'

"No, I think that's his natural coloring," Hikari debated. I sighed to myself, knowing that I wouldn't be able to judge by that, anyways, since I knew next to zilch about makeup.

"But he's so tall," Taichi said under his breath. 

"There are some tall girls, though," Mimi said from my other side. "I know of a few that are like giants - they're so unpopular, though."

I noticed something that I thought the others hadn't caught. "He has drumsticks in his back pocket," I said to them.

They all checked.

"Oh yeah! Drummers have to be guys, don't they?" Mimi asked.

"Why can't girls be drummers?" Hikari asked indignantly.

"Full lips," Taichi absently noted, cutting off any feminist ranting from his sister. "And her waist seems to be a little curved."

"How can you tell?  The shirt is too baggy," I said.

"No, no curves," Miyako told Tai, squinting at the figure of the kid.

I also thought about the hair. Oh, sure, some guys in my school had long hair, but this hair seemed to be silkily shiny and soft, and the bangs were slightly shorter and curled under the ears. Guys didn't make their hair look like that. 'Girl.'

"Um, what if it's, like, a butch girl or a gay guy?" Mimi asked tentatively, as if she didn't like that idea.

All our faces lit up. Why hadn't we thought of that? Hikari made a face and Taichi made a gagging noise.

"Please, don't even _say_ things like that, Mimi," Taichi said pleadingly.

"Don't be so immature, Tai," Miyako admonished. She turned to smile at the kid we were scrutinizing. "He's turned to the side and given us a profile."

We all snapped back to attention, this time not even trying to be discreet.

"No boobs," Tai said. His face fell. "It's a guy. A gay guy."

"How do you know if he's gay?" I asked, sounding a little annoyed. I don't even know why I felt annoyed, but I guess I just didn't like him judging someone he didn't even know.

"Maybe it's a girl with a flat chest," Hikari said calmly. "You can't blame a girl for being tall and having a flat chest."

He started heading back across the cafeteria to his table, slapping his hands together and across each other as if to get dirt off of them, looking delicate or dainty. 'Girl?'

Then, he looked up, and his eyes bore right into mine. I held his gaze, feeling trapped, my eyes going wide at being caught staring. He continued to stare straight at me as he walked, and then he looked away as he went past us. My head turned to watch him walk away.

"Come on, Takeru, let's go and throw our plates in the trash," Hikari said to me. I stood up and began walking with her to throw our plates. 

On the way back, she turned to me and grabbed my arm. "We've got to go find out about our mystery person."

My eyes widened at her. "What?" I tried to resist, but she insisted on dragging me over to the new kid's table. She carefully pulled a chair out and sat down on it, and I reluctantly followed her example, sitting in the chair next to hers, across from the kid.

He (she?) looked up at us and smiled, marking his place in his book and setting it down. 

"Hello," Hikari said cheerfully. 

"Hello," he greeted in return, and I frowned when I heard how soft the voice was. A gender didn't leap out at me upon hearing it, and I realized it was going to be harder than I thought to figure this person out. 

"Are you new here?" Hikari asked, sounding interested in him.

"Yeah, I just moved here."

"Oh, and what's your name?"

"You can call me Ken."

We continued to stare, smiling politely. Ken? Short for...Kenny? Kendra?

"Ken...?" Hikari said, making it sound like a question.

"Oh, Ken Ichijouji."

That didn't help. Hikari made sure to ask Ken to spell the name for us, to make sure we got the right Ken in our minds. Just like I expected, it was K-E-N. 

"What kind of a name is that?"

"It's actually American," Ken said. I knew she'd been expecting him to say 'a boy's name' or 'a girl's name'. I almost laughed out loud.

"Well, I'm Hikari Yagami, and this is Takeru Takaishi," she said, gesturing to me. I smiled and waved.

"Hey."

Ken smiled back at me. "Hey."

"I know you aren't American, because of your last name...so..." Hikari said.

"Oh, I'm Japanese, but my family has a lot of mixed blood. Kind of like a mutt, you know, from a dog pound?"

"Uh-huh," Hikari said, still smiling. "So, what are you reading?" 

"Freud," Ken said.

"Oh." Hikari blinked, then turned to give me a questioning look. I shrugged one shoulder, even though I knew who Freud was. I guess she was expecting either a girl's magazine or a sports magazine or something.

"I don't know who Freud is," Hikari confessed, giggling to herself.

"Oh," Ken said, letting a small chuckle escape his lips. He tried to explain who Sigmund Freud was, but Hikari seemed interested in other things. 

Then, it was kind of silent for a while, and I noticed that Hikari was totally looking Ken over and not bothering to hide it. Ken continued to smile at her, watching her take everything in, not seeming to care that she was being rude. I cleared my throat to try and stop her, and Ken turned to look at me. He smiled.

"Aren't you on the basketball team?" Ken asked me.

I nodded my head yes. "How'd you know?"

"I heard some girls talking about you in one of my classes this morning." He shrugged. "So, are you good at playing basketball?"

"Oh, he's the best at it!" Hikari cut in, smiling brightly. "He could beat anyone at basketball, right Takeru-kun? Gosh, I've never met a better player," she chattered on.

Ken laughed and smiled at me. "Well, I'll have to watch one of your games and see for myself, then."

"Are you a drummer?" I asked.

He nodded heartily. "But I'm no good at it. I just do it for fun, you know, a sort of little hobby. I'm not that serious about it."

I nodded, showing that I was listening, and then Hikari cleared her throat.

"I don't mean to be rude, and please don't take offense or anything...but are you a girl?"

I stared at her, my jaw dropping slightly. Ken laughed. "Oh, no, sorry, I'm not a girl."

"Oh," Hikari laughed nervously. We waited for him to say "I'm a guy", but he remained silent, still smiling at us as if we hadn't been rude to him at all during our talk. I began to think that maybe he was enjoying our confusion, because his smile just kept getting wider and wider.

"So you're a guy," Hikari said. 

I suddenly felt like I had to get her away from Ken before she asked him "Are you gay?" or something equally as rude, and I stood up, grabbing her arm. "Well, we have to get back to our friends now," I said, excusing myself and smiling at Ken.

Ken smiled back as easily as ever. "Okay, it's been great talking to you. See you later, Takeru-kun, Hikari-chan."

"Bye, Ken," Hikari chirped, waving enthusiastically, and then her smile disappeared as she narrowed her eyes at me as we walked back to our table.

"What's the big idea? We were just starting to get somewhere!"

"No, you were just starting to get a little too rude, 'Kari," I muttered. 

"I was not!" she cried indignantly.

As soon as we sat at the table, the questions flew at us. I let Hikari answer them, drifting off into my own thoughts. So his name was Ken Ichijouji, and he was a guy. Well, he didn't exactly confirm it for us, but I never thought of him as anything but a guy ever again. So he looked a little girly, so what? He seemed like he'd be interesting to talk to again.

I didn't know then that I'd be talking to him a lot more in the future. 


	2. How Takeru Came To Sleep On Ken's Bed

A/N: I forgot to mention - this is my 30th fic! Yay, celebration, and all that junk! Geez, I hadn't realized I'd written so much. Really, I feel like I've hardly written much at all. I don't feel very accomplished. Oh well, I'm working at it. I wrote this chapter yesterday, but I ended up finishing very late at night so I couldn't write the author's notes or upload it. Much longer chapter, because you all deserve it. Sorry if the characters seem OOC, but I'm trying to figure out how they're going to fit into the plot of the story. 

Let me take a little time to thank and respond to the reviewers: 

2 lazy 2 think of a name - Ah, don't want to have to resort to stalking. Here you go, I've continued. ^-^

Jay Man - I hope this is 'keeping it up' for you? O.o'

syenite kai - Daisuke is going to appear later on in the story (with Yamato and a few certain others), but it won't be too long 'til then, don't you worry. Yes, Ken is androgynous...when I was reading the Lani Garver book I kept getting reminded of him when it talked about Lani. x.x'

lil_angelgirl - Yes, the book is awesome. *-* 

This chapter is dedicated to you guys. 

Disclaimer is in the first chapter, and still applies to this one.

Warning: This chapter brings to light an eating disorder called bulimia. It's a serious matter, and I hope I'm doing okay talking about it. I've done a little research so I'm sure what it is and all that. If you're sensitive about this type of thing, maybe you shouldn't read this fic, because it's going to deal with it a lot more later on...well, just warning you guys.

Now, on with the fic.

Chapter 2: How Takeru Comes To Sleep On Ken's Bed

After we'd gotten over the initial shock of Ken's appearance at our school, we became bored again, and Taichi started discussing a "study group" for tonight. Our study groups were just another excuse for getting out of the house to go party somewhere at night. We planned on meeting at one of the cafés we enjoyed going to in town. After school, after we all promised to be there, we separated to go to our respective homes and get ready. 

I was all set for a good, long night with my friends by the time six o' clock rolled by. I pulled a hoodie on over my plain navy blue shirt and headed out the door. I didn't mind walking, since the café was just down the road. Everyone was pretty much already gathered when I walked in. They were all seated in one of the long, corner booths. 

I slid in on the end, next to Hikari. She turned to smile at me. She was wearing her shiny, red lip-gloss. That meant she was going to kiss somebody tonight. 

"Ready to have fun tonight?" she asked me, her voice low. I grinned at her.

"Of course," I replied easily. 

She slid closer to me so our arms touched. I cautiously looked down at her arm and then looked away, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable. She got touchy-feely like this when she drank something alcoholic. I could tell she hadn't drunk much, but it was enough to get her pretty friendly. I often got after her for doing it, and then got after Taichi for letting her do it. 

I carefully moved a little away from her on the seat, though not enough so she'd notice right away. She continued to listen to our friends and laugh at things they said that I didn't hear. I watched as Taichi slid his drink over to me. 

"Have some, Takeru."

I glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. I took a sip and noticed the slightly different taste right away. He'd put something in it. I handed it back to him, making myself grin. 

"Hah hah, very funny, Taichi."

He was always making fun of me for not drinking with him. I can't stand the taste of beer - the taste has always been totally unappealing to me. I can have certain beverages with alcohol in them, but I normally stay away from them and politely decline offers. It's only when I'm either angry or depressed that I drink with them. This time, I wasn't either, and I wasn't about to risk getting caught drinking something with alcohol in it in a café. Taichi, of course, got a rush out of doing stupid things like that. 

I ordered a coke for myself and rested my elbows and arms on top of the table, drumming my fingers on the tabletop. Miyako turned to tell me to stop, so I looked at her for a while and then removed my hands from the table. I set my arms down on my lap and gripped my elbows, something I did when I was uncomfortable. 

Hikari moved closer to me again. Taichi made a joke about something or another and everyone laughed. I laughed along with them, even though I hadn't heard the joke. My coke arrived and I quickly drank some, feeling suddenly parched. Taichi pulled something out of his jacket pocket and pulled the top off, reaching towards my drink. I recognized the little flask and pulled my drink towards myself.

"Come on, Takeru, you are not denying yourself this again tonight."

"Yes I am," I said, trying to sound cheerful. I smirked at him. 

He reached again. "No, you're not. Come on, Takeru."

"Don't want any," I said, lifting my drink to my lips again.

"Leave him alone," Hikari warned her brother. 

He narrowed his eyes at her and put the flask back into his pocket.

"Someone is going to see that and you're going to get into trouble," Hikari scolded.

"No they aren't, and no I'm not," Taichi argued. He grinned. "No one catches me."

I looked at Hikari and caught her eye. I gave her a smile of thanks and she winked at me. She knew I didn't like for Taichi to pressure me, which he did often enough to make me uncomfortable when we hung out at night. 

"Want to go out and get some fresh air?" she asked gently.

I nodded quickly. The café was starting to feel a little stuffy to me.

We got out of the booth and told the others we were going to walk around outside. They all said goodbyes and see-you-laters, turning back to their conversation. Hikari and I got outside and took in the fresh night air, grinning. She began walking down the boulevard, passing the little shops and restaurants with lighted signs and windows. I walked in step with her, smiling a lot easier now that I was out in the open. I enjoyed walking around outside at night because everything seemed so peaceful, despite the other people crowding outside on the sidewalk. 

She suddenly turned to me and stopped, smiling and closing her eyes halfway. I stopped and turned to her expectantly, smiling back. She lifted her arms to slide around my neck and walked forwards so I was pushed back against the wall. I frowned slightly and lifted my hands to rest on her arms, ready to pull them off if I got uncomfortable again.

"What is it, 'Kari-chan?" I asked a little timidly.

She chuckled to herself, looking me over and tilting her head to the side. "You look so good tonight, Takeru."

"Thank you." I pressed myself back against the wall so we weren't so close - her breath smelled slightly of the alcohol she'd probably consumed in the café. 

She pressed up against me again and leant her head forwards. My eyes widened when her lips met mine and I moved my hands down from her arms to her shoulders, gently pushing her back. I stared into her eyes, my eyebrows furrowing. 

"How much did you drink tonight?"

She giggled again and shook her head, leaning forward again. I gently put my hand on her forehead. She pouted at me. 

"How much?"  


She pulled herself completely away from me, withdrawing to stand a little apart. She looked irritated. "It doesn't matter how much. Why are you being so distant?"  


"Distant? Why are _you_ being so forward?" 

"I know you want to kiss me."

"What?"

I raised both my eyebrows. 

"Why do you think that?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "The way you were looking at me."

I stared at her and then looked away, trying to stay calm and focused. I felt instinct kicking in, suddenly needing to get away from the discomfort. I looked at her.

"I have to go...to the bathroom."

I slid against the wall past her and began walking into the nearest restaurant. It was a fast-food place, one that stayed open late. I glanced behind myself and sighed in relief when I saw she hadn't followed me. She probably went back to the café the others were in to groan about me.

When I looked forward again to check out this restaurant, I hesitated when I saw who was standing at the register, ordering food. I instantly recognized the indigo-violet color of hair, sweeping down to the thin shoulders. I couldn't believe my luck. It was Ken Ichijouji. 

I turned and walked out of that restaurant as fast as I could.

I sat down on the street corner outside of the restaurant, figuring Ken wouldn't be going outside for a while since he had barely been ordering his food. I rested my arms on my legs and my fists on my knees, sighing. It was going to be another one of _those_ nights. Keeping Hikari off of me without making her too mad, declining every offer that Taichi made to me, then forcing myself to grin through his joking about it at my expense, and the others watching and laughing as if we were the most amusing thing in the world - though that could be because of the alcohol. I rubbed my forehead against my knuckles, sighing to myself again. 

During it all, I had to keep that damned smile on my face - my "happy mask", as I've come to call it. Oh, yes, I'm having the best fucking time of my life. Watch me dance my puppet dance for you. 

I was suddenly aware of slurping going on somewhere above my head. I jumped slightly and looked up from my knees as someone sat down next to me, still slurping their drink loudly. 

I stared at Ken as if he were an alien or something. Why was he sitting next to me? He hardly even knew me.

"Are you okay, Takeru?" he asked me, his straw still stuck in his mouth.

I saw that his face was sincere, so I let my guard down again and went back to resting my head against my arms and knees. 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Right." I thought I heard sarcasm in his voice. I heard slurping again. I sighed.

"Must you do that?"

The slurping stopped. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"  


I felt his arm go around my shoulders and I stiffened. Lifting my head from my knees, I turned to narrow my eyes at him. "What are you doing out here, so late and all alone?"

"I was thirsty." He shrugged and looked as if it was supposed to be totally obvious to me. 

"What is that?" I pointed at his drink.

"A slurpee. Don't you ever have slurpees from this place? They're great."

"I never have _anything_ from this place," I said, glancing up behind us at the fast-food place.

"Why not? The food's delicious."

"It's not my type of place."

"It isn't?" He looked genuinely surprised. "Why not?"

I stared at him. "I just don't." I hoped I sounded like I didn't want to continue the conversation, because I didn't. I was feeling irritated with the way things were going that night, and I didn't really want to be talking to him on a street corner in the middle of the cold night. My friends were probably wondering where I was. If they came out to find me and saw me talking to him, of all people, I'd never hear the end of it. Also, my stomach was starting to feel queasy.

I realized he had been looking me over while I was silent. I raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Are you checking me out?" I was only slightly surprised at how annoyed my voice sounded. 

"You're too skinny," he said, looking up at my eyes again.

"What?"

"Do you eat much?"

I gawked at him. "What kind of a question is that to ask? I hardly know you, and you ask me if I eat much and tell me I'm too skinny? Who do you think you are?"

"I know you. You're Takeru Takaishi. You know me, don't you? So why not ask? I'm just concerned, that's all."

"Well, I'm just fine, so you don't have to be concerned about me, okay?" I hated it when people commented on how skinny I was. It was as if they didn't think I even knew. 

"You didn't answer my question," Ken pointed out.

I growled to myself and stood up. He looked up at me from where he sat, head tilted up and eyes rolled back. He blinked at me. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my friends," I said, sounding more annoyed than before.

I turned around quickly and began to march off when the queasiness in my stomach hit me full force. I stopped in my tracks and held my stomach, trying to keep from gagging. I put my hand up to my mouth, shutting my eyes. I heard Ken walking towards me and standing next to me.

"Are you okay, Takeru?" 

I became vaguely aware that he'd asked me that twice that night. 

"No," I said, deciding to be honest this time, because it was pretty pointless to lie since I probably didn't look okay to him. "I'm just a little queasy, that's all."

"Well, my house is very close by, if you want to go over. I have medicine and stuff you could take to help calm your stomach. You can call someone to go pick you up, if you want to go home."

"My mom's working late...won't be home 'til nine tonight," I told him.

"Your dad?"

"Divorced. Not living with us."

"Older sisters or brothers?"

"I'm an only child. Look, I don't live that far...just about six blocks."

"I'm not going to let you walk six blocks alone and in this condition. You'll puke on a stranger or something. My house is closer, let's just go there."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I was starting to feel suspicious of him. How could he be so nice when I had been so rude to him while we were talking?

"Nice? What the hell? Is it demented to cut you a break?"

'Yeah,' I thought, 'it actually is. I'm always the one cutting people breaks. I don't know how to act when someone else does something for me.'

I realized his arm was still around my waist and I pulled away from him. "Quit touching me so much." 

After listening to my voice, I noticed how snappy I sounded. I groaned.

"Geez, I'm being so rude. You're offering me a walk to your home to use your phone, and I'm yelling at you."

"You aren't yelling." He actually sounded like he was grinning and trying not to laugh. "So, what about it? Do you want to go over?"

I thought about it for about a second before the queasiness set in again and reminded me I needed to find a toilet to barf into. 

"Okay, fine, I'll go with you."

He grinned almost triumphantly as he began leading me down the sidewalk. I kept glancing back over my shoulder to make sure none of my friends were watching Ken Ichijouji lead me off into the moonlit night.

I swayed on my feet and bumped into him while we walked. "Sorry."

He laughed to himself and raised his arm to put it around my shoulders. I suddenly felt grateful for the support and lifted my arm to rest around _his_ shoulders. Walking seemed a lot easier after that. My stomach made an odd noise and my mouth suddenly got very watery. I swallowed tons of my own saliva and frantically looked up to look for his house. I realized a few seconds later that this was futile, since I didn't know which house was his.

"Are we almost-"

"Here." He turned me down a sidewalk and walked faster, sensing my distress. He quickly unlocked the door with a key he'd pulled out of his pocket. I smiled thankfully at him as he opened the door and let me walk in first. 

"The bathroom's down the hall and to the left, second door."

I ran to find it. 

After I was down heaving into the toilet, I took some time to look around at the house as I walked back to the living room, where I'd left Ken standing. It was the typical duplex, with three rooms downstairs and two rooms upstairs, and a balcony over the front porch. Everything looked nice and clean, nothing out of order, the vacuum lines still on the carpet on the floor. I figured Ken didn't have little kids as siblings. 

Ken was sitting on the couch in the living room, talking to a lady sitting on a second couch that was running perpendicular to it along the wall. She turned to smile up at me when I came into the room, and I smiled back, a little uneasily because I didn't know how good I looked right after puking my guts out.

I didn't feel like talking, mostly because I still felt ill and uneasy, and I hoped I didn't have to have a conversation with this woman. Luckily, Ken stood up and rushed over to start pushing me up the stairs, probably to his room. 

"Mom, Takeru. Takeru, Mom."

"Hello, how are you?" I heard her call to me.

I thought that was a little odd, because usually people just said "hey" around here. 

"I'm doing okay," I called back, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. Having practiced fake cheerfulness pretty much my whole life, I actually did sound as if I was just fine.

I heard Ken laughing under his breath behind me, though, so I guess I wasn't _that_ good at hiding it. His mother seemed satisfied with my answer. However, me being me, I just had to go and do the whole act. 

"I hope you like it here...it's a good town...nice people...the weather's good, except for the cold and the fog," I rambled on, swaying on my feet and crashing into the wall a few times. I'm sure I looked like a lunatic. I'm sure she thought I was on drugs or drunk or something. Oh yeah, great first impression, Takeru. It was hard to be cheerful when you felt like collapsing on the floor and laying there forever until the pain in your stomach died down. 

"Don't fall," Ken said helpfully, and I heard the laugh in his voice. I felt like whirling around and shoving him down the stairs. Some big help he was. We finally reached the top of the stairs and he began guiding me to what I guessed was his room. 

As soon as I saw his bed, with its fluffy dark blue comforter and silky sheets and pillows, I threw myself onto them, letting my body collapse there. 

"Your mom is nice," I mumbled. "I'm sure she thinks I'm a psycho or something, though. I was stumbling the whole way up the stairs. Did I look like a psycho? Do you think she thinks I am?"

"Is this normal for you? Worrying about a complete stranger's opinion while you're practically passing out?"

I realized it _would_ sound a bit odd to him. "Oh, that's just the way I am. Never minding my own problems, just helping out with everybody else's...it's gotten to the point where I stop worrying about my problems and they don't bug me at all. It actually feels weird for me to have problems, since I'm so used to having to help my friends with theirs." I stopped, realizing I was rambling about personal stuff to someone I hardly knew. 

"So you're saying...no one ever listens to your problems? You have to deal with them completely on your own?" He wandered over to where three candles rested on a dresser and carefully lit them. I watched him. '_Gay thing_,' I thought, feeling a little edgy.

"Well, not totally on my own...my friend Hikari listens to me and offers advice. We're really close."

"The girl that dragged you over to my table earlier today?"

"Yeah," I said, before I could realize what he'd said. It dawned on me and my eyes widened. "I mean, no, she didn't _drag_ me over. I wanted to meet you, too." It was too late, though, and I was just making it worse.

To my surprise, he burst out into little laughter that sounded suspiciously like giggling. 

"So, uh, where's your dad?" I asked, hoping to remove his attention from my comment. 

"He passed away about a year ago," Ken replied easily. 

Smooth move, Takeru, smooth move. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice sounding weak. My body was starting to feel weak, too. 

Ken shrugged. He finally stopped standing around and sat down on the edge of the bed. "He was a good guy, but we weren't that close."

"So how do you like Odaiba?" I asked, trying to change the subject to something that wouldn't lead to some stupid comment on my part. 

"I'm adjusting okay." He shrugged and began picking at the blanket. "I'm used to moving around a lot. I've moved around practically every year since the fifth grade."

"Why'd you move so much?"

"Well, first it was my dad's changing jobs so much. Then, I ran away for two years. This is my first year back."

My eyes practically bugged out of my head. "You ran away?" 

He looked up to meet my eyes and nodded. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked slightly uncomfortable. I'd never met a kid who ran away before. At least, not for two whole years. I couldn't believe he looked so healthy.

"Why did you run away?" I asked, suddenly feeling very interested in him.

He squirmed a little. "I was living in a small town at the time. People like me do better in big cities. I don't like to talk about it, though. What's with the sudden nausea?"

I frowned where I lay on the bed. "Uh, I just get nauseous sometimes when I'm in an uncomfortable situation."

"Oh, really?" Ken's voice didn't sound sarcastic, but I saw the look in his eyes. 'He doesn't believe me,' I realized. 'He knows that I'm not telling the whole truth.'

"Why were you uncomfortable?" he asked. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw he was going to let it go. 

"My friends," I said as an explanation.

"Elaborate."

I raised my eyebrow at the word. It wasn't something you normally heard in a casual conversation with a teenager. 

"They just are."

"You aren't going to explain?"

"I don't like talking about myself, either."

He looked away from me and towards a corner of his room. 

"Do you talk to them about it?"

"About what?"  


"About how they make you uncomfortable."

I stared at him. "What? How could I do that?"

"Well, if something makes you uncomfortable, you should confront it and do something about it. If you don't, it'll always be there, and it'll always be uncomfortable."

I shrugged, feeling too tired to respond to that. I let my eyes drift shut. His bed was so soft...

"What about your mom?"

"What about her?"

"Do you talk to her about your problems?"

I shook my head, my eyes still closed. "No, not really. I can't. You know how it is...it's hard to talk to your parents when you're a teenager. They always think you aren't telling them all of it and you're hiding something, and then they don't trust you."

He continued to stare at the corner. "What about your dad?"

"I don't talk to him an awful lot, since I only visit him on weekends sometimes, but when I do, it's like he can read my mind. It's easy to talk to my dad, because he always makes an effort to understand everything you're talking about and tries to see it from your perspective so he doesn't get biased. I still don't tell him much about my problems, though, because he's just recently gotten remarried, and he has to work overtime so he can support the both of them, because she doesn't work. He doesn't need to hear my crap when he's got so much of his own."

"So you can't talk to your mom, your dad, or your friends, besides Hikari."

I had never really thought about how few close relationships I had before he put it that way. I didn't really have anyone I could rely on, anyone I could depend on to help me out if I was stuck in a jam and couldn't get myself out. Hikari had the perfect life, so she wouldn't bother trying to get me out of trouble if it risked her good reputation. 

My stomach did a little flip-flop again and I groaned as I rolled onto my side. 

"You could go to a counselor," Ken said, sounding as if he were grinning. I cracked my eyes open to look at him. He was still staring at the corner of his room.

"My dad wanted me to go to a counselor. He even said he'd pay for it. I don't want to, though. They're kind of scary." He laughed at that. I gave him a strange look, but he still wasn't looking at me. 

"Do you ever get mad?" he asked suddenly, out of the blue.

I raised both my eyebrows. "What?" 

"You know, do you get mad at your friends or your mom?"

"I get mad at my mom a lot." I couldn't see where he was going with this. "I kind of have to remind her to pay the bills and stuff. She knows I'm a responsible kid, so she uses that so she can be less responsible."

"What about your friends?"

"Of course I get mad at them. I-"

I suddenly heard Hikari's voice in my head, asking me what the hell I was doing talking about them to a complete stranger. I groaned to myself, a wave of nausea making its way up my body. I rested a hand on my stomach.

"Hey, Ken, you ran away, right?"

"Right."

"So you've seen a lot?"

"Yeah."

"You've seen a lot of sick people?"

"Tons."

"Good, because I think I'm about to be sick on your bed."

"The bathroom is right there," he said, pointing to a door in the wall to the left of us. He had one of those bathrooms that was connected to the bedroom. He still wasn't looking at me, still staring at that corner. I began to wonder if maybe the secret to the mystery of life was written somewhere in there. 

I swallowed and the nausea died down again. It dawned on me that he was taking everything surprisingly easily. There I was, a sick kid he barely met for a few minutes that morning, lying on his bed, in his house, having a conversation with him as if we'd known each other for a long time. It seemed odd to me that he'd be so relaxed about everything. I didn't think anyone had paid that much attention to me in my entire life. 

"Ken, I'm falling asleep," I mumbled. 

He finally tore his gaze away from the dark corner of his room and turned to look at me. He smiled. 

"Go ahead."

He shrugged. 

"You're so nice," I muttered.

"Nice. There's that word again." He grinned, as if it amused him greatly that I'd used the same word to describe him twice. 

"I can't sleep here," I said.

"Why not?" 

"It isn't my house or my bed."

"Well, then I'm offering both to you, if you don't think you'll be able to get up any time soon."

"See, you are nice."

"Quit calling me nice." A tiny bit of annoyance tinged his voice.

"I'm bulimic." I gripped the pillow I was laying on, waiting for his reaction. I'd never told anybody before in my life, only my parents knew about it, and I didn't know why I was telling him, but it was out already. I couldn't retract the statement.

His eyes just widened for a second or two. "Okay..."

I waited, but he didn't say anything else. 

"Have you ever known a bulimic person?"

"I have a friend who suffered from anorexia. And a few others who have other, much worse illnesses..."

'Illness...runaways...I should be more on edge around him, but I'm not,' I thought. But for some reason, talking to someone my age that understood about this type of stuff, that truly listened to me, and was able to talk about something serious like this...it gave me a rush. For some reason, I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. I expected him to pull away, but he didn't. He continued to stare absently down at the bed.

"So, haven't you ever gone to a support group? Talked to a counselor about it? Friends who had the same problem?"

"My mom didn't want to spend too much money, so she just took me to a doctor and stuff...but I never really talked to others about it."

"Jesus." He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His other hand was still firmly gripped in my fingers. When he opened his eyes again, they looked like they were full of anger. I guessed he thought I should have been in a support group.

"Yeah, well, I could have talked nonstop for hours on end to someone, but it wouldn't have helped me to just stop throwing up. After some time, the body is so used to it that it does it naturally."

"Is that what happened a while ago? And, I think, is still happening now?"

"Yeah. I hadn't thrown up what we ate at lunch today in school yet."

I couldn't believe I was saying stuff like that to him and he was just looking concerned, but not scared. If I'd told any of my friends, they would have been freaking out.

"How old are you?" I asked abruptly. I had the sudden feeling that he was so much older than me. He acted so mature and so much like a grown-up. Maybe running away had put him a few years back in high school and he was actually supposed to be in college. He wasn't leaping into my pity party, but instead was trying to understand what I was going through.

He suddenly looked weary and he grinned. "How old am I? Oh, I'm _ancient_," he laughed, though his laugh was tired.

"What do you mean 'ancient?'" I asked. I thought maybe he meant he was experienced or something. He didn't answer me, though. He just flopped down onto the mattress and lay on his back next to me, pressing his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Now that he was lying right next to me, I was able to gather the courage to inspect his face more closely than I'd dared to before. He had smooth, pale skin, and I noticed he didn't have any sign of blemishes, pimples, or anything. His eyelashes really were long, and his eyebrows weren't that hairy, but they weren't as thin as the girls made theirs, either. His long, indigo-violet hair was thrown back over the dark blue comforter, almost hiding in the camouflage. I wondered if it was his natural hair color, because it matched the color of his eyebrows. Guys don't paint their eyebrows. Then again, by then I was able to guess that Ken didn't do many things that normal guys usually do, and he did a lot of things that normal guys usually don't, which all meant that Ken was no normal guy. 

I gathered up the courage to run a finger over his cheek. It was smooth and peachy. "Do you even shave yet?" I asked dryly.

"No."

"Well?"  


He took my hand off his face and gently set it down on the bed next to me. He turned to look at me. "Be quiet and go to sleep, will you? I need to think."

"Don't think you have to help me solve my problems," I said, feeling as if I was being a burden on him by telling him about my bulimia. "I know you can't do anything about it."

His hand came down on the top of my head, yet again making me feel as if I was a great deal younger than he was. He rubbed my hair a little, still staring at the ceiling. I was sort of annoyed, because it made me feel like I was three, or he was sixty, or something. 

"Takeru, please just go to sleep. I'm not saying I can help you, or that I can do anything about it. All I'm saying is you've got a lot of issues you need to work out."

"Issues? What issues?"  


He started thumping his head gently against the wall. He slid his hand down from my hair to cover my eyes, making me close them. 

"I'm not going to sleep on your bed," I told him.

"Then just try to relax. I need to think."

I didn't really have a choice. It was already too late to walk home by myself. I could see myself throwing up in the gutters and people passing me by and giving me the weirdest looks. 

"Sometimes I have nightmares," I tried to warn him. 

"Go figure."

I caught the sarcasm in his voice, but I didn't know how he'd know about my nightmares. "They're bloody. I don't wake up from them well."

"Do you scream? I can turn the radio on." 

I felt sort of surprised that he'd do that for me. I couldn't believe anybody could possibly be so nice. "I don't scream...I'm just in a bad mood when I wake up."

"Worse than this?" He sounded surprised. 

I laughed a little, and I felt mildly stunned when I felt tears filling up my eyes. I felt stupid. "Sorry if I upset you or anything."

He laced his fingers on his stomach and looked at me in shock that I would have expected when I'd told him about my bulimia, but didn't know what to make of it now. 

"You're weird," I yawned. "Are you going to tell me how old you are?"

And then I fell asleep. I didn't have one of my bloody nightmares, but the dream was strange. I dreamed about Ken's arrival in Odaiba. He came walking out of the ocean on the beach, covered by mist, wearing something white...carrying something like a shiny backpack or fluorescent blankets on his back. 

~ ~ ~ ~

A/N: Hah...Takeru is sleeping in Ken's bed. Yeah, sorry I sprung Takeru's bulimia on you guys so suddenly and all, but I was trying to show how well some people get at hiding their own problems from people after doing it for so long. Or something. I'm not completely sure yet. Hmm...can you guess what Ken was carrying on his back in the dream? ^-^' Sorry about the Takari bit, but I'll let you know now that Takeru is *not* interested in her like that, so you don't have to worry. Next chapter should be out soon. Key word being should. Please review?


	3. In Which Ken Makes His Proposal To Help ...

A/N:  Yay, I'm actually not taking forever to get a chapter up.  Don't really have much to say here.  Uh, I feel crappy because I'm using so much of the book's dialogue and descriptions in this story.  I feel like it isn't even my story.  I'm trying to change some things and make it more different, but I keep lapsing back into doing the same thing.  X.x' Oh well, at least this chapter's done.  

NT aka Aku-chan – Aw, you're too nice.  *-*  **Hands you a free chocolate milk shake from the fast food place Ken likes so much in this story** 

Jay Man – Yup, you guessed right.  Geez, it took me like three times to read that part in the book and understand what the fluorescent things on his back were.  Thanks for wishing me luck and inspiration – it seems to have helped me write this chapter sooner.  ^-^

This chapter is dedicated to the both of you.  Thank you so much for reviewing this fic.  

Same disclaimer, same warning from before.  

Chapter 3:  In Which Ken Makes His Proposal To Help Takeru

When I woke up again, the clock in my face read 9:00. I was trying to figure out whether it was morning or night when my brain became conscious that it was dark in the room. Okay, it was nine o' clock at night, but where was I? 

I noticed three flickering lights standing out amongst the darkness in the room. There were three lighted candles on a dresser. I was in Ken's room. I'd been there since six-thirty.

I turned around in the bed. Ken was still laying with his head back against the wall, fingers laced across his stomach, staring into the darkness, looking as if he was thinking hard about something. I wondered if he'd been doing that all this time, while I was asleep. I didn't think he'd slept while I was asleep. It was as if he had been watching over me. 

"Feeling better?" I heard him ask quietly. 

I nodded and brought my arm to my face to press against it, yawning. 

"Mom made food. Smell it?"

I sniffed at the air, and I could just make out the scent of food. My mouth watered. I slid out of his bed and stood up.

"Want to eat before you leave?" He shifted his head to look up at me. 

"No thanks," I politely declined. I didn't feel like eating anything for the rest of the night. "I don't eat red meat."

He sighed and sat up in bed. "How did I know you were going to say that? You don't eat red meat, you don't eat fast food...no fun."

"I have plenty of fun. Just not with fatty foods and dead cows."

He threw his head back and laughed. I was surprised he hadn't hit his head on the headboard of the bed. 

I moved toward the dresser mirror and looked myself over. "I look like I just got hit by a truck. Your mom is definitely going to think I'm weird, or something's wrong with me."

"And that would be the end of the universe?"

He hopped off of the bed and walked out his bedroom door. I quickly followed. We made it all the way down the stairs before his mother turned to talk to me from where she sat watching TV on the living room couch. 

"Would you like to invite your friend to dinner, Ken?" she asked. "It's still warm."

"He said he has to get home," Ken piped up, before I could tell her no. I smiled gratefully. I hated to tell mothers that I wouldn't stay for dinner, since they seem to take that kind of thing like an insult sometimes. 

"It was nice to have you here. I hope you come back soon," she said to me. 

I smiled and bowed to her. "Thank you for letting me stay over." I felt weird saying that, since she hadn't exactly been asked permission to let me stay. She just smiled, though. 

She stood up and walked over to me to shake my hand. When I looked her in the eye, I saw something that seemed to be like an urgency. She was _hoping_ that Ken and I would become friends. It was as if she wanted her son to have a friend like me, and it made me wonder what kind of friends Ken usually had. 

"Anytime you kids want to go and hang out or anything, you have my permission," she went on. I almost raised an eyebrow at her but caught myself in time. 

"Okay," I said, since I didn't know what else to say in response to that. 

Ken grabbed my arm and began leading me to the front door. He let out an uninterested half-giggle. I thought he was probably directing it at his mother, instead of at me. 

"You know what she's thinking, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And you're not embarrassed? She's your mom. Moms create guilt."

"You're right, they do." He nodded. "Only, she's not my real mom. I'm adopted. You don't have as much guilt when you're able to tell yourself, 'She's just a nice lady who's nice to me when she feels like it.'" 

"You're adopted?" I stared at him. "Well, you've lived a very unusual life."

"Yeah, it's an epic classic," he said disinterestedly. 

"Can I hear it some time?"

"Maybe." He cleared his throat and switched the attention back to me. "So, you're suffering from this eating disorder, your mom doesn't want to do anything about it, your dad is too far away to help much, and your friends have no idea."

I laughed. "Geez, you make it all sound so horrible."

"Well, how would you like to get treatment without anyone knowing about it? You won't worry your mom about money, your friends won't notice any change, and you wouldn't have to bother your dad."

The idea made me stop in my tracks and turn to him, my eyes slightly wide in curiosity. "There's no way I can do that without my parents knowing."

"There could be. We just have to take a bus. It's a long ride. You know how you have to wait for test results from the doctors for a really long time?"

I nodded, grimacing. 

"Well, I know how you can get them in a couple of hours. And where I take you, you won't need parental permission to be treated."

"Why?"

"Because most of the kids are runaways, and everyone knows it."

I stared at him. It sounded way too good to be true. Just hopping on a bus and going away seemed so unreal, but I wanted to make sense of his mixed-up personality. I wanted to be able to spend more time with him. Besides, what did I have to lose? 

I tried to compare Ken to other gay people I knew. The gay tourists around here were all businessmen that went to the beaches and used expensive sunblock to protect their skin and allow them to get a nice tan at the same time. Ken didn't fit in with them. Ken was more real, more raw...once I started to think about it, I didn't know _anyone_ who was like Ken, who I could compare him to. 

"You don't seem to fit into any of the usual categories," I said carefully. 

He suddenly looked irritated. "You're trying to stereotype me. I hate it when people do that."

"I am not," I defended myself, even though I thought it might be a lie. "I'm just trying to see where you fit in."

"Same thing. You're trying to judge me."

"No I'm not. I'm just trying to get to know you." I thought of what he'd said earlier at school, and how weird it had sounded at the time. _Not a girl_. "It's easier to say what you're not like. You're not like any of the boys I know, but you aren't like a girl, either. You aren't like the school geniuses, but you're still very smart. You don't look like a grown-up, but you don't act like a kid." I stopped, sensing that he was getting very tense or annoyed.

"I don't like to be put into boxes. Boy, girl, dork, popular - they're all boxes."

"Sorry, but I just want to figure something out about you. How old are you?"

"Age is a box."

I stared at him. "Age is kind of important, you know. I'd feel weird hanging out with you if you were, like, twenty."

"Why should it matter? I'm still the same person, right?" 

I sighed in annoyance. "Let me guess. You're one of those geniuses that thinks he's got everything figured out so he doesn't have to explain himself to anyone."

"Do you really think that?" His eyes looked a little hurt. I winced a little as I looked into them. 

"No," I said truthfully, sounding sorry. 

I tried to think of something to ask him that didn't have to do with boxes, but would help me understand him better. 

"Have you ever read Albert Einstein?"

"Yes, I've read Einstein."

"Did you understand him."

"Yeah."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's a kid living on the streets doing reading Einstein?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I guess I just always thought that homeless people weren't very bright. I realized how prejudiced that sounded. I suddenly knew what he was talking about when he said people use stereotypes. 

"As for me and the library, that started in fifth grade or so...whenever it is that boys are supposed to start looking like boys, and girls like girls. I had to find a hiding place to creep away to where I could be left alone. It isn't too good to hang around the playgrounds and other places that kids always gathered at if you were different from everybody else. Nobody ever went to the library to hang out, though, so that soon became my little sanctuary. I remember a librarian once told me, 'If you can understand human behavior, it can't hurt you nearly as much.' That always stuck with me. So, I decided to spend my days reading in the library."

"Wow." I never would have connected runaways with libraries before that. When he put it that way, though, it made sense. "So, what did you read?"

He took a deep breath and began to name a long list of names; the only ones that I recognized were Marx, Darwin, Freud, and Hegel.

  
"Jesus Christ," I breathed.

"Yeah, him too. Listen, I need you to pay attention to what I'm about to say." I nodded, leaning closer to him to make sure I caught all of his words. "You can't tell anyone that I know so much. I'm trusting you with secrets that I wouldn't tell many people, and that's only because you seem to be so good at keeping your own secrets to yourself. I need for people to think I'm not as smart as I really am."

I blinked, uncomprehending. "Why?"

"Because seeing through human behavior is, like, both a blessing and a curse. Once people realize you know the hidden meaning behind their actions, they get super cautious around you. Some even beat you up. When I was younger, I had to understand why kids bullied me so much. I knew that the only reason they bullied me was because they were once bullied, they depended on my fear, and they only hated their own feelings of being victims, and not me. Knowing all of this made me feel less helpless, and actually helped me to sympathize with the kids that pushed me around. Fear is what bullies feed off of, and when they saw that I didn't truly fear them, they didn't get such a charge out of doing it. Sometimes you need to think on your feet and try to find a way to get out of a jam. You can't if your mind is paralyzed by fear."

"Oh." I started to look at him with more respect. He knew what he was talking about. He'd said he wasn't a good fighter, but in a way, he was. He couldn't land hard punches - not with those hands - but he had a pocketful of tricks. 

"But when people realize you can see inside their heads and what they're thinking? They don't take kindly to that. You can get mugged in the city. Around here, though? You could get lynched."

"I don't think you have to worry about getting lynched around here, Ken," I said, smiling.

"Don't laugh."

"I just think you're overreacting, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Well, you wouldn't like it if I started looking inside your head at all of your hidden garbage, would you? Don't worry, I won't, but just imagine if you were someone whose hidden garbage was such a great amount-"

"Hold on, what about my hidden garbage?" I cautiously stared at him.

"See? You're getting defensive."

"No, it's because I don't have any hidden garbage. I'm just fine." I knew what I sounded like, though. My voice sounded like I was trying to convince him to believe me. I didn't know how he'd know about anything else - I'd only told him about my bulimia. I cringed as I remembered what I'd said back in his bedroom. 'I have nightmares. Sometimes they're bloody...'

"That's called the 'defensive stance.' Standing with your arms crossed over your chest. Did you know that the people most afraid of their own thoughts spend half their lives with their arms crossed? Put your arms down." He gently reached out to pull them down to my sides. "There. Now, look me in the eye and tell me again that you don't have any hidden garbage."

I wanted to. I wanted to look him in the eye and say it again, make him believe my words. I wanted to make him forget about anything I'd said about my nightmares back in his room. Unfortunately, I'm a very bad liar. I decided to just say, "I can see why people would hate you."

"If you're going to hate me, you might as well hear my thoughts about you."

"I don't want to." But I was suddenly scared he could see into my head. See what I dream about at night, see the scary thoughts that ran through my head when I least expected them too. I thought he could see the bloody poetry I wrote when I was in a bad mood, that I kept somewhere in the back of my closet in a box that no one but me would ever look through. "Go ahead, say what you were going to say." I braced myself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

"I think you would be doing yourself a favor to go and see a shrink."

I deflated. I wanted to pretend he wasn't there, but he was standing right in front of me, and I had to look at him. I wanted to become invisible to him. "How is it any of your business? What right do you have to say a thing like that to me?" I asked coldly.

"Takeru, calm down. You know I don't mean it in a mean way. I'm just trying to help you. Going to a shrink is like...going to a masseuse."

I felt my face growing hot with anger. "A masseuse? The only masseuse around here has gone home for the winter, because her only customers are the rich lady tourists and the faggots-"

I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. His hand did the same, covering his mouth, but I got the odd feeling it was to smother a laugh. I sunk down onto the sidewalk, not believing that word had just flown out of my mouth, and at him, of all people. 

"That's another version of the defensive stance," he said through his fingers, his voice muffled. "Dropping out of my gaze and turning away." 

"Fuck you."

"Really, I understand. This is part of the reason I should never be allowed to become a shrink. I'm way too blunt." 

"You're a nightmare," I told him. I suddenly got paranoid. "What exactly is it that you know about me?"

He sat down cross-legged next to me, on the sidewalk. "Just that you're suffering from an eating disorder, you have bad nightmares at night, and you can't talk to people about it."

"That's all?" I sighed in relief, and then felt stupid. Duh, I'd just implied that there was more he didn't know. 

"Well, yeah. I'm not a shrink, you know."

I took a deep breath. "Tell me everything you think you could assume about me, from what you already know. Tell me about my hidden garbage."

He paused, and grew thoughtful. I could tell his mind was cranking. Things suddenly started spilling out of his mouth in half-sentences, like he was saying everything just when he was thinking it. "Well, you've had illness and trauma...no one to talk to...but you always have shit coming from somewhere. Bloody nightmares, you said...gone beyond just dreaming, or you wouldn't be so crazed...you've got artistic tendencies, so you must use something to get it all out...writing poetry or making music...same part of the brain as dreams...you're writing bloody poetry."

I gawked at him. My jaw hung wide open, and I tried to figure out how he'd thought all of that up. It was like being naked in front of him or something. I didn't slap him because I had the odd feeling he could have predicted it. "You are a regular nightmare."

"I could get myself lynched. So, you won't tell anyone that I'm like this, right?"

"I'm going home." I stood up and brushed myself off. He stood up, too. I turned and began to walk home, not looking back. I could feel him staring after me. I stopped suddenly. "Where is this place you want to take me?"

"It's on the island nearby. Franklin Hospital. Come to the bus station at eight tomorrow morning."

"Okay." I decided I just wouldn't show up. I didn't promise him I'd be there or anything. For some reason, I felt like I was getting even with him. 

"And if I don't see you, I'll just go on to school."

I turned around to face him slowly, feeling weird, like he had just read my mind. "What makes you think I wouldn't come?"

"You didn't turn around until after you asked. We're not connecting. Sorry, I've been a pain to you."

Then, he turned and started walking back towards his house. 

'Obnoxious and weird,' I thought. I decided I wasn't going anywhere with him the next day. Maybe it'd be better if I just forgot about him. My earlier interest in him was slowly fading to nothing again. I turned and hurried home, where I knew I'd find plenty of good phone messages, since I'd just left my friends back at the café earlier that day.


	4. In Which Takeru Visits Franklin Hospital

A/N: Felt bad that I never typed up this chapter, so I made it longer for you guys. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story so far. I'm going to have to go to bed in a while, because it's...late. I have school tomorrow and all. So anyways, I can't take the time to thank everyone individually, but I'll just say that you guys have really kept my spirits up about this fic. Thank you! ^-^' I'm glad that people are willing to read fics for couples that aren't done as often as others may be. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Courtney Love. I forgot to mention before, I don't own Franklin Hospital, either. 

Chapter 4: In Which Takeru Visits Franklin Hospital 

When I got home, the first thing I did was check my phone messages. There were six, and five were for me. The first four were from Hikari, and the last was from Taichi. Hikari's phone messages went along the lines of, "Where did you disappear to, you dork? We're coming over to pick you up in five minutes." 

"We're coming to pick you up in four minutes..."

"Three minutes..."

"Two minutes..."

Taichi's message said, "Forget it, just go to the café and look for the car."

I did as he said. I didn't take too long to find the car and wave it down. Once the door opened to let me in, I wondered if there would be any room for me. The car seemed to be packed. As usual, Akito was driving, and he yelled at me to hurry up and get in the car before the local policeman drove by on underage-driver patrol. The other people in the backseat scooted over for me as best as they could, but I ended up having to sit on Miyako's lap, anyways. I thought I saw Hikari turn around in the front seat to send a glare our way, but I could have just imagined it. 

We sped on down one of the back roads to get to our usual nighttime hangout - the Odaiba beach. We always went there because Akito lives very close by and his house is the biggest out of all of our houses. Akito's crazy older brother was probably waiting for us on the beach. Yukio didn't like to accompany his brother when he came to pick us up at night. He was always on guard because of his reputation and the fact that none of the policemen around Odaiba liked him because of his record. He claims that they give him trouble simply for just being seen around there at night. I believe him because I've heard about some of the things he's done. He's even worse than both Akito and Taichi. 

As we neared the beach, everyone in the backseat started arguing over the tiny amount of space. People were getting squashed and uncomfortable. Someone came up with the bright idea that I should roll the window down and stick the top half of my body out of it, since I was pretty much laying on top of them all. 

Soon the wind was blasting in my face as I held on to the top of the car for dear life. I tried to keep my eyes open to make sure that no low-hanging branches were coming my way. I wanted to keep my head attached to my body. I heard Hikari scream at Akito to slow down because I was sticking out of the inside of the car, and Akito yelled something back at her, though I couldn't hear what. 

I wondered to myself why it was always me that got stuck in these situations when I was just able to make out a figure moving in the distance. I shielded my eyes and realized that Yukio was standing in the middle of the road. 

Now everyone in the car was screaming at Akito to swerve out of the way. Akito and Yukio always played these stupid brotherly games of chicken. It always scared the crap out of us because sometimes we had close calls. Akito would drive straight for Yukio and Yukio would leap out of the way at the last second. Lately, Yukio had taken to waiting until Akito slammed on the brakes to throw himself onto the windshield. 

I tried to duck my head back into the car. "Don't swerve!" I screamed.

My scream was lost among all of the other screams to swerve out of the way and not hit him again. I tried to raise my voice even further, but it proved futile because before I knew it, it was too late, and Akito hit the brakes as Yukio hurled himself onto the front of the car. 

It took a split second for me to realize that Yukio was taking it a step further and making himself roll over the window and the top of the car. He fell over the side, landing on me and forcefully dragging the rest of my body out from the car, landing us both on the rocky side of the road. I don't think Akito ever even stopped driving. 

Yukio realized what had happened and quickly enveloped me tightly in his arms to try and absorb most of the damage of landing and rolling on the ground for a short while. At one point, something smacked into my head and a searing pain ripped through me for a few seconds. After we had stopped rolling, we lay still for a while before Yukio pushed himself up off of me and stared down at me with slightly shocked eyes. 

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, staring at a spot somewhere above my eyes, and then I had to shut them because my vision went red and something sticky was trying to get into them. I suddenly became aware of a splitting headache and I tried to sit up and wipe the stuff out of my eyes. When I was pretty sure I wouldn't go blind if I opened my eyes, I checked to see what it was on my hands. I nearly cried out when I saw the blood running down my arms from my palms. 

People began running over and some of the girls screamed when they saw me frantically rubbing at my eyes to stop the blood from running into them. Someone grabbed me by my forearms and hauled me to my feet and I opened my eyes into slits to stare at Yukio as he half-dragged me to his house. 

He told me to wait outside, because there was no way I was getting my blood all over his clean, tile floor. Soon, he was back with a mirror, a bucket of ice, and a small first-aid kit, and he quickly began wiping the blood off of my face and trying to find exactly where the wound was. I grabbed some ice and pressed it against my forehead, and while it stung like hell, I knew it would help stop the bleeding. Yukio handed me the mirror to look at my face. I braced myself for what I was about to see and took a look. 

A long line of the skin on my forehead just under my hairline seemed to be standing up, as if it had been yanked back, but not completely off. You could almost see my skull. I stared at the tissue that was slowly filling up with blood again around the edge of the gash and realized that I wasn't all that grossed out. It was as if it wasn't really happening, and it was just a nightmare that I was waiting to wake up from. 

Akito had ambled up to us - he was the only one who could easily stomach seeing something like that - and checked the wound out for himself. He gave a low whistle. 

"That is one deep cut. You handle shit good, Takeru. Any of your other friends would probably be totally freaking out." 

I glanced at him, and then at Yukio over the mirror. I wondered how many times they had cut their heads open while trying to pull off some stupid stunt. 

"It's almost like you're used to seeing blood all the time," Akito continued.

I froze momentarily but let it pass, knowing that there was no way they could possibly know about anything like that. 

Yukio began handing me peroxide, soap, and a cup of water. I quickly began cleansing my wound. It didn't hurt so much because of the ice I had put on it. When I was done cleaning it, Yukio grabbed a butterfly bandage out of the little first-aid kit he had pulled all of the other stuff out of. He put it on over my wound and inspected it for a while. I thought it felt a little out of place, but I didn't say anything, because you just don't tell Yukio that he did a bad job. 

When I was cleaned up and everything, Yukio took all of the stuff back inside the house, careful not to drip blood onto the floor, and Akito walked with me back towards my friends. 

They were hesitant to look at me at first, not sure what they'd see, but as soon as they saw my head was covered up, they rushed over to me and began asking me all sorts of questions, most of them versions of "Are you okay?" I thought the answer to that would have had to be pretty obvious. 

"Do you want to go home, Takeru?" Hikari asked me gently. "Taichi and I could go drop you off."

I nodded slowly, already feeling the effects of blood loss on my body. I felt weaker than I had been before, since I hadn't had much energy in the first place, what with still not having any food in my body. Taichi asked Akito if he could borrow the car and Akito said yes. Soon, we were on our way back towards my house, and all I could think of was how freaked out my mom was going to be when she found out about my forehead. 

~ ~ ~ ~  


The next morning, I trudged up to the bus station. I had decided I wasn't going with Ken, since I was bruised and cut and totally not looking forward to going on a trip anywhere that day. When I walked up to one of the benches, I recognized him sitting there and staring off to the side. He looked weird to me again. He had a girl's hair, a guy's shoulders, a girl's hands, folded across a guy's chest, and skinny, crossed legs with baggy black jeans partially covering black army boots. It was just strange to me that he could look so mismatched. His rosy cheeks and deep violet eyes topped off his look. 

He turned to look at me after a minute and smiled as I sat down next to him. I opened my mouth to tell him that I wouldn't be accompanying him on the trip, but he spoke first. 

"What is that on your forehead?" He frowned at me. 

I reached a hand up to gingerly touch the butterfly bandage. "Oh, uh...just a little accident I had last night."

"Between the time you left my house and the time you got home?"

"No, I left the house after I got home, to go hang out with my friends by the beach. I kind of fell out of a moving car."

"The door accidentally opened?" he guessed, raising his eyebrows.

"No, I fell out of the window."

He stared at me a while. "You fell out of the window of a moving car."

"Yeah. It does sound ridiculous, doesn't it?" I laughed a little, but he didn't even smile. He looked worried. 

"Why does it look so funny?" he asked, indicating to the bandage.

"It wasn't applied right and it's stuck in my bangs," I explained, trying to smooth out my bangs for what had to be the tenth time since the previous night. 

Now he was watching a bus pull out of the station and take off. He sighed in what I guessed was relief. 

"This guy that I hadn't seen in a long time just got on that bus."

He said it in a way that caught my interest. Like seeing the guy had shaken him up a bit. 

"Who?" I asked curiously.

"A guy from one of the schools I used to go to. He was about three years older than I was. Can I ask you something?"  


He turned to me and I nodded my head quickly. "Yeah." 

He leaned in and half-whispered, "Did you know what oral sex was in the eighth grade?"

He blushed and I fought the urge to grin. "Yeah. Didn't you?"

He shook his head. I looked him over, wondering why he wouldn't have known, and then remembered how he told me he'd spent most of his time hiding in the library. Had he missed out on the things kids learn about in middle school, such as sex, because he was so busy trying to get away from people who might judge him and hurt him? 

"Anyway, the guy that got on that bus was the one who told me what it was. He used to say things to gay bash on me all the time, you know, like call me 'faggot' or whatever. But then, after school, when no one was around, he would come on to me and start telling me all this stuff about oral sex and exactly _how_ you do it. He'd try to get me to do stuff with him."

My eyes widened. "You mean...like...," I trailed off.

"Yeah, _stuff_," Ken replied. He shook his hair away from his face and began to stare up at the ceiling.

I felt a slight rush of something like anger run through me, and I wondered where it had come from. 

"You didn't, right?"

He turned and gave me a sharp look, eyes slightly narrowed. I quickly shifted my gaze to the floor, suddenly feeling stupid for saying something like that. 

"No, I didn't," he said calmly. I nodded my head slightly, rubbing my arm.

"Sorry, it was a typical stupid Takeru moment."

I glanced up at him and saw that he was grinning in amusement. 

"'Stupid Takeru moment?" he repeated. He looked up at the ceiling yet again. "Well, you are a blonde."

I made a "hmph"ing sound. It sounded sissy even to my own ears, but I didn't care. I hated when someone made a comment about my being blonde and connecting it with stupidity. 

"I thought you didn't believe in stereotypes and all that crap," I told him.

He began laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. He looked up at me, smiling brightly. I gazed at him, my mouth slightly open. I wasn't used to his switching personalities yet. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I couldn't help it. I don't really believe it, you know."

"What, that blondes are stupid?"

"Yeah." He grinned and looked over my shoulder. "There comes the bus."

I turned back to watch the approaching bus and cursed to myself when I realized I hadn't yet told Ken that I wasn't intending on going with him. I had gotten caught up in our conversation. I turned back to him.

"Ken, I don't think I should go..."

"What? Nonsense. You are definitely coming with me," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet as he stood. 

I blinked in momentary confusion as he lead me to the bus but then gathered my wits and yanked my arm out of his grip. He turned to look at me, amusement sparkling in his eyes. 

"Ken, I really don't think I should go. I'm still hurting from all the bruises and cuts and whatnot I got last night."  


Ken sighed, putting a hand on his hip and resting his weight on one foot, making him look totally girly. "You're coming with me whether you like it or not, Takeru."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," he insisted, grabbing me again and shoving me onto the bus. He quickly paid for the both of us and began shoving me all the way to the middle of the bus and onto a seat. He hopped over my legs and sat in the window seat, turning to grin at me. "Told you that you were coming."

My brain sorted out that I was now sitting on a bus that was making its way towards the bridge leading to the island just off the coast of Odaiba. I narrowed my eyes at the grinning boy beside me.

"Ken! I told my mom I was going right back!"

"You can make up an excuse," he replied, as if it was the most obvious and logical answer.

He slid his arm around my shoulders, resting it along the top of my seat. 

"Calm down," he told me, smiling, and then he squeezed my shoulder and pulled his arm back off my seat, reaching into one of his pockets to pull out headphones. I realized he had a CD player shoved into one of his huge side pockets. He offered me one of the earplug-looking things, and I took it, grumbling to myself. 

I recognized the woman singing in my head and turned to give Ken an odd look. I hadn't known he listened to the music I listened to. He was staring out the window, his hand gently drumming a beat on his thigh. I remembered he was a drummer and smiled. Of course, if he was a drummer, he had to listen to rock music, right? Duh, Takeru. 

Courtney Love sang to me as I tried to warm up to the idea of visiting this hospital that Ken was taking me to. I looked forward and saw that it was going to be a while before we finally reached the island, so I tried to get comfortable in my seat. I slid down and pressed my knees up against the back of the seat in front of me, resting my arms crossed over my lap. I was still tired because it was so much earlier than I was used to being up at on a weekend, and my head began tilting to the side as my body tried to relax enough to drift off into sleep. 

My eyes shot open when my head came to rest on a soft, cottony surface. I glanced up towards Ken to check if he minded me resting my head on his shoulder, and when I saw he was still staring out the window, as if deep in thought, I realized that I should have guessed Ken wasn't the type to care about something like that. I think I could have sat on his lap and he would still be staring out that window, thinking, looking totally comfortable. 

When we finally reached the island, I was half-asleep, and Ken had to shake my shoulder gently to completely wake me up again. I blinked and let my brain take in my surroundings as I straightened up, blushing slightly when I realized I'd had my head on Ken's shoulder practically the entire time we were on the bus. He smiled and shrugged, as if telling me he didn't mind, and then motioned for me to move already.

We got off the bus and I began to follow him down the sidewalk towards a large building that I guessed was probably the hospital he had been talking about. 

When we got inside, it was like Ken's entire persona changed. It seemed to me that he knew almost every single person in the waiting room and the lobby. He kept going over to people and saying hello, and then having small conversations that made it seem like they were all great friends. I got tired of following him around and sat down in a plastic seat, pouting. When the nurse finally called my name for my turn, Ken was letting a pregnant teenager chew his ear off about whatever was going on in her life. I decided not to go and get him, following the nurse by myself. 

She lead me to a small, white-walled room with a blue curtain hanging on a tall metal rod thing going across the room. She began asking me questions about my current health and then she questioned about the butterfly bandage caught in my hair. I explained to her about the accident and she made nagging sounds. 

"It's been applied wrong," she told me. "Who put it on?"

'Yukio, the neurosurgeon,' I thought.

She reached forward to try and get it out of my hair, but I reached up to it before she could touch it. 

"I can fix it myself, thank you." I yanked at it to try and show her, crying out at the sudden stab of pain. Blood began dripping down my forehead again as the wound was opened and I felt my eyes filling up with tears as I stared down at the bloody bandage with the blonde hairs stuck in it. 

She began making nagging sounds again, turning to rush to the door, and calling out some doctor's name. She came back to me and began trying to calm me down again. I had begun muttering to myself about how I was just trying to show her that I could put it on right. 

She kept patting my shoulder and rubbing my back, but I was ignoring her, trying to focus on wiping blood out of my eyes. She went out of the room again, leaving me to sit there and panic about the blood getting on the clean floor and the hospital bed I was sitting on the edge of. 

Soon, a tall man came into the room. I assumed he was the doctor. 

"Are you the moron that fell out of the window of a moving car and busted open his forehead?"

I narrowed my eyes but bit back any smart comments. "Yeah," I muttered wearily. 

He began getting instruments out of a drawer thing in the room and sat down in front of me. "I'm going to have to stitch this up, okay?"

"Okay," I sighed. I knew this would happen eventually anyways. 

He got right to work, and I closed my eyes so I just felt little pricks and pulls and didn't have to see anything happening. 

"How'd you fall out of a car window, anyways?" he asked. He sounded thoroughly amused by my stupidity. 

I made a growling noise. "I don't want to talk about it."

He laughed a little. "Been having bad days?"

I sighed to myself and shrugged one shoulder. "Kind of."

He grinned. "What you need to do is find you one of our floating angels."

I was about to raise an eyebrow when I remembered he was sewing my face up. "What?"

"A floating angel," he repeated. He grinned. "There's always at least one in the waiting rooms. You just have to look for one."

"Angels are hanging around the waiting rooms in this hospital," I repeated dryly.

He nodded heartily. "You just have to look for one," he insisted again. 

"Well, what does a floating angel look like?"

"A faggot."

"What?" My eyes shot open again. 

"Well, you know that angels aren't supposed to have a gender, right?"

"Yeah." He finished sewing me up and put the little instruments away again. 

"Well, they look like they can be either a boy or a girl, so they usually look like a faggot."

I rubbed my arm. "Oh. And what do they do?"

"They help people sort out the junk in their life."

"How?"

"They have their own mysterious ways."

Just then, the curtain was pulled back, and Ken gave me one of his big grins. 

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

I rolled my eyes, grunting. "Where've _you_ been?"

"I have been making sure the doctor isn't busy and can see you today."

"Doctor?" I pointed towards the man that had been helping me, and Ken shook his head. 

"Not that one. The one we are going to talk to about your eating problem."

Just then, the doctor in the room turned around and grinned at Ken. 

"Ken Ichijouji! I'm trying to convince this good man that he should talk to a floating angel."

Ken laughed and turned to smile at the doctor. "He doesn't want to?"

I realized these two knew each other. "Geez, you know everyone around here, don't you?"  


Ken glanced at me. "Yeah, well, I'm a frequent visitor."

"Why?"

He gave me a sort of sad smile. "The people around here are my friends. I like to visit them as often as I can, just in case I never get the chance to see them again."

It took me a while to realize he didn't just mean them moving away or anything. Some of the people I had seen in the waiting room looked very sick. Sort of like they had a life-threatening disease. 

"So where were you before you went to visit this other doctor?" I asked him.

He giggled, moving around to stand behind me. He slid his arms around my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Don't be jealous. I have other friends besides you, you know." He pressed his cheek against mine, giggling again. I tried to look at him without turning my head. I finally figured out that I couldn't. 

Ken turned to the doctor again, his smile lightening up. "So, Minoru, how's he doing?"

The doctor, who I guessed went by the name of Minoru around here, laughed a little. "His head will heal, but he really needs to get away from any bad stuff in his life. He needs to find himself a floating angel to help him get happy again."

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Ken replied, looking thoughtfully over at me, his chin in his hand. 

I stared at them both. I thought it was a little rude to talk about me like I wasn't even in the room, trying to figure out what I needed to "fix" myself. I hadn't even thought I was "broken" in the first place.

"Hey, Minoru, is Ken a floating angel?" I asked suddenly. I thought of how Ken could easily be a person of either gender, and how I'd been unsure about it at first. 

Minoru turned to look at Ken thoughtfully. He reached up and scrunched Ken's face up in his hand, turning Ken's head from side to side, inspecting him. He turned to look at me.

"Nah, he's just a plain fag. Just a gay boy, that's all." He turned to look at Ken again, whose face was still scrunched up in Minoru's hand. "Ken, you a gay boy?"

"Gay is a box," Ken said, looking as if he wanted to start laughing.

"Oh, don't get him started on that," I told Minoru. "He wiggles out of every label you try to slap onto him."

Minoru gave Ken a suspicious look. Ken continued to smile at him. 

"You like boys?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes, I love boys."

"You like girls?"

"I love girls."

"You bisexual?"

"Bisexual is a pretty large box."

Minoru let Ken's face go, turning to me. "This boy is just a flaming gay, that's all. Just a plain old run-of-the-mill faggot." 

I was still shocked that Minoru would use that word so often to describe Ken and Ken was just laughing about it all. 

Ken turned to grin at Minoru again, holding his hand out to be shaken. Minoru took it and shook heartily.

"Well, I'll be seeing you around, Minoru. We've got to go. Kimura-san will get on my case if we're late for our appointment."

"I'm sure she would," Minoru mumbled. He rolled his eyes. "See you, Ken. Goodbye, Takeru. It was nice to meet you. You're welcome around here whenever you want to just hang out."

I wondered to myself why I'd want to hang out at a hospital, but smiled politely. I shook his hand. "Goodbye, Minoru."

I bowed to him and began walking out the door. Ken followed shortly and I began walking beside him towards another part of the building. He waved to people as we passed them by, all of them nurses, doctors, and patients.

"What did he mean by 'hang out'? Why would I want to hang out in a hospital?" I asked him.

Ken smiled but didn't turn to look at me. "Sometimes people hide out here when they want to be alone, and they just sit in the waiting rooms and make friends with the patients and the floating angels. No one kicks you out of this place, because everyone here thinks that everyone in the world should have a place to get away to." 

"Does anyone ever sleep here?"

"Some probably do."

I raised both of my eyebrows at him, but he was still smiling and staring forward. 

"Hey Ken," I went on, "how come you just brushed off every time Minoru called you a...you know."

Ken turned and gave me a slightly surprised look. "Faggot? In case you haven't noticed, that word is used around here just as loosely as 'bandage'. It's like a term of affection or something."

We got to a door that said "Dr. Kimura" on the golden nameplate stuck on the front of the door. Ken knocked twice and then opened the door, sticking his head in.

"Kimura-san?" he called. 

"Ken, come in," I heard a woman's voice call. He opened the door and motioned for me to go in before him. I did, looking around the room and finally settling my eyes on the short woman sitting behind the desk in the middle of the room. She smiled at me, hands clasped on top of her desk. 

"Take a seat," she told me.

Ken closed the door behind us and, instead of sitting in the chair next to mine, went to lean back against the wall next to where we were sitting. I gave him a strange look and then turned my attention to the woman who seemed to be studying my appearance. 

"Ken tells me you have an eating disorder," she finally said, resting her eyes on mine.

I froze, turning to stare at Ken. He hadn't been over here just to check for an appointment, he came alone so that he could dish information on me to her. He looked up off of the floor to stare into my eyes as if he had nothing to be ashamed of. I turned back to the doctor. She was staring intently at me.

I nodded slowly, picking at the fuzz popping out of the arm of the chair I was sitting on. 

"What is it? Anorexia nervosa? Bulimia nervosa?"

"Bulimia nervosa, I'm pretty sure," I replied. 

She nodded. "Do you binge-eat and then throw it all up later?"

"Yeah," I said softly. I didn't like talking about it, especially to a complete stranger, even if she was supposed to help me.

I told her about how I would eat tons of food, to the point where I got a stomachache from overeating, and then threw all of my food up some time afterwards. She listened to me, nodding in all the right places, and then took her thin gold-framed glasses off, setting them down on the desk in front of her.

"I have a little test for you, Takeru. You must complete it today," she told me. 

I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrow at her. "What kind of test?" I asked. 

"Are you hungry?"

I nodded slowly. "I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon."

"Then I want you to go out to a restaurant with Ken. Order something very light, such as an order of cheese sticks, or a side salad. Eat it in small bites, and then don't eat anything else. Try to get your mind off of food after that. If it doesn't make you go crazy with needing to consume more food, you aren't suffering from this eating disorder as badly as you think you are. We need to know exactly how badly it is for you before anything else. If you ever feel the need to throw it up, keep it down as easily as you can. If you simply _can't_ keep it down and throw up anyways, without meaning to, I want you to come straight back here and tell me. Okay?"

I nod, yanking at the fuzz in the arm of the chair again. 

She smiled at me in a slightly fake way. I got the feeling that this woman was all about business. 

"Good," she said simply. She looked at me for a long time, then looked towards Ken again. When she looked at me again, her eyes were softer and more sincere. 

"Look," she said softly, jutting a thumb in Ken's direction, "I trust this guy. He reminds me of one of our floating angels. I get the feeling he really cares about you. If he'll report back to me that you've passed the test, then I won't call your parents and tell them about this, or tell them you should get therapy. Do we have a deal?"

I forced a grin. "Sure. I can pass this test, no problem," I said with well-practiced false confidence. 

"Great," she said, leaning back in her seat.

I looked over at Ken and let the panic show in my eyes. I seriously didn't think I could pass this test. Just a side salad to eat and nothing else? And no throwing it up at all? The thought was making my stomach do flip-flops just sitting here. I couldn't say it out loud, though, not in front of her. I shook my head slightly so that only he would see, but the more I shook my head, the more he nodded his. He kept grinning at me, like he knew that I could do it, and he was encouraging me. 

He winked at me and I just knew he'd keep sitting there with me even if it took four hours to pass this stupid test. I felt a warm feeling inside of me as he walked over to me and held a hand out to me to help me up, even though he knew I didn't need any help standing up. 

I took his hand anyways, letting him lead me out the door, saying our goodbyes to Kimura-san and walking out of the hospital. This time, he didn't wave or say hi to anyone as we passed them by in the hallways. He held my hand the entire time we walked through and out of the doors of the Franklin Hospital.

~ ~ ~ ~  


A/N: For all you people that have been wanting Daisuke or Yamato to come out...they do! In the next chapter, you'll meet them and see how Takeru does with his little test thing. Wish him good luck. Oh, and have I mentioned that there is going to be Yamasuke? (Surprised?)


	5. In Which Takeru Meets Two New Friends

A/N: Here you go, all of you people that have been waiting forever for me to update this. Sorry it took so long. Hey, just be glad I continued, huh? Geez, it's been two months and one day. Well, here's the next chapter!

Same disclaimer, same warning.

Chapter Four: In Which Takeru Meets Two New Friends

  


The rule that states the largest-possible amount of restaurants one city block could possibly hold apparently never reached the island. I couldn't believe there were so many. Steak houses, Italian restaurants, Chinese restaurants, Japanese restaurants, and American fast-food places (I cringed at the sight of them while Ken rejoiced) were among the many types of restaurants lining the city streets. Ken looked impossibly happy. I felt like running back to the hospital, flinging myself onto a white bed, and refusing to move from that spot. 

"Let's go in here," Ken said quickly, waving his arm out at the nearest fast-food restaurant. 

"What the hell is with you and fast food?" I snapped.

"I want a slurpee," he explained. 

"You are a slurpee maniac!" I accused.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the restaurant. I groaned and began weighing my chances of getting free if I struggled hard enough. I forgot about possible escape routes when he stopped in his tracks and gasped. 

"What?" I asked, feeling suddenly paranoid. 

"I just remembered, the school lets out around this time! I wonder if they're on their way home by now?" Ken pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. I gawked at it.

"You had a cell phone?"

"Shh," he held a finger up to his lips. He was silent for a few seconds, and then his face lit up. "Hey!" 

He turned away from me and began talking into the phone. When he finally turned back to me, his grin was wider than ever.

"Guess what?"

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"You're going to meet two of my best friends today!"

"Hooray," I said monotonously.

"Oh, come on, you could try to be a little more cheery than that."

"Ken," I said slowly, holding my arms out to indicate the restaurant, "I'm in hell."

"You're such a drama queen," he said, laughing. "I bet you'd fit right in at the school."

"What school are you talking about?"

"It's an art school just down the road. When I ran away, I attended that school so I wouldn't be missing out on two years of education or anything."

"You went to art school?" I asked incredulously. "Can you draw?"

"No, but I can act," he said cheerfully. "So, do you want me to order for you, or what?"

"You don't want to wait for your friends?" I asked quickly, stalling for time. I didn't want to have to face my challenge just yet. I wasn't in the mood for looking at or smelling food of any kind. I knew that I would take one look at the food and suddenly feel starved, and then I would know for sure that there was something wrong with me.

"They have salads," Ken said pointedly. 

He knew I was stalling. 

"Why did you have to choose a fast-food place, Ken?" I whined. 

"The food here isn't as intense as at all of those other fancy restaurants and you know it," Ken said flatly. I looked away, sighing.

"What kinds of salads do they have?"

He smiled.

After he'd ordered, he lead me to what he called his "favorite spot to sit", in a corner of the restaurant, where you could look through the glass and see everyone that passed the restaurant by. 

"They should be getting here pretty soon," Ken said, looking out the window. 

I stared at the tabletop. I didn't feel like talking to any new people. 

"There they are!" Ken cried. He slid out of the booth and ran to greet his friends. 

  
I slowly pulled my head up to look for them, deciding it was useless to try to fight the inevitable. 

Ken was walking back to the table, talking to two boys. One was short, with spiky red hair and a slightly dark tan, and the other was tall, blonde, and very skinny. 

The redhead was hugging Ken's arm, saying, "Geez, Ken, we missed you so much. Sweetheart, your hair looks so _cool_. You're really growing it out long, huh? By the way, next time you decide to disappear on us, at least call me while you're gone."

I looked up at them as they stopped in front of the table.

"Wow, Ken, who's your cute new boyfriend?" Daisuke asked, raising his eyebrows and staring at me. 

I felt my face grow hot. 

"Guys, I want you to meet Takeru."

The redhead grinned and held his hand out. "My name's Daisuke. The scarecrow is Yamato."

I shook Daisuke's hand and smiled slightly. Yamato shoved Daisuke's shoulder.

"That isn't funny, Dai." Yamato smiled and shook my hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Are you guys hungry?" Ken asked.

"Starving," Daisuke replied, grinning. 

Yamato smiled. "I guess I could have a little something. Get me fries or something, okay, Dai?"

Daisuke nodded. "Right. Fries." He began walking towards the front of the restaurant, repeating "fries" to himself under his breath. 

"He's a little scatterbrained," Yamato explained.

I smiled tentatively. Ken grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Hey, loosen up. They're good people."

My eyes widened and I stared at Ken. Yamato had heard him say that! How could he have been so rude?

"Yeah, we don't bite, Takeru," Yamato said jokingly. 

I looked at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise. He smiled at me. 

"So, what's your deal?"

"Huh?"

"Are you an EDO, an AS, or what?"

I blinked. 

"EDO is eating disorder and AS is attempted suicide," Ken explained. 

I gawked at them both. 

"He's an EDO, too, Yamato," Ken answered for me when I could only stare.

I couldn't believe he had just told a guy I barely knew one of my deepest, darkest secrets. I suddenly felt like slapping him. I didn't get the chance, though, because right then they called our number out and Ken rose to retrieve our food. 

"Be right back," he called, walking to the front, passing Daisuke on the way, who was on his way back to the table.

"So what's up?" Daisuke asked as he plopped down next to Yamato.

"We have another EDO," the blonde announced, pointing at me.

"Really?" Daisuke grinned at me. "That's great. I guess you aren't the only one now, Yamato."

I moved my gawking from Daisuke to Yamato. "You, too?"

"Anorexia. It'll be three years next month," Yamato said, nodding. 

"Oh, I don't have anorexia," I said. I shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, I don't think I have any eating disorders at all. I just have weird eating habits, that's all. There isn't really anything that _wrong_ with me."

Daisuke and Yamato frowned at me. I felt very uncomfortable under all of the staring and frowning, and I felt great relief when Ken finally made it back to the table.

"Here's your salad, Takeru," he said, sliding my food over to me and sitting down next to me. 

He pulled a hamburger out of a paper bag and began opening up the wrapper. The smell reached my nostrils and my face scrunched up involuntarily. I wondered if Ken knew how fat eating dead cow could make him.

"So how are things at the school?" Ken asked.

"Everyone misses you and keeps wondering where in the hell you went," Daisuke said, grinning. "And Uzumaki-san is still trying to make me un-gay somehow. He caught me in the back of the classroom, painting my toenails light blue. Want to see?"

"No, spare us your horrible-smelling feet," Yamato answered, holding a hand up.

"No thank you," Ken said, grinning. 

"Honey, is the doctor making you eat just that salad?" Daisuke asked me.

I looked down at my salad. "Uh, yeah."

"Ugh, she's such a bitch," Yamato grumbled. "She should know better. If you do have this eating disorder thing, it's going to be hell keeping you away from food and from throwing up what you have in your stomach already."

I nod glumly. "I thought so."

I turned to listen to Daisuke chatter on to Ken about that teacher they had. 

"Now he's trying to give me all of these really masculine roles. Like yesterday, he made me do Tybalt in _Romeo and Juliet_. He got mad because I wanted to play Mercutio so I could die. Finally, he ended up threatening my grade in his class if I didn't do Tybalt. I do a pretty good Tybalt, but that isn't gonna stop me from painting my toenails."

Ken was giggling madly and trying to drink through his straw at the same time. 

Yamato told him not to do that so he wouldn't choke, and then Daisuke said he didn't even know Ken _could_ choke.

"Lighten up, Yamato. That's what you're supposed to be doing, isn't it? Lightening up? Isn't that what the doctor ordered?"

Ken raised an eyebrow.

"Last week, Suzuki-san told me that I had to stop taking everything in life so fucking serious, so now I'm trying to be all happy and cheery and shit. I _am_ doing my best."

"Yeah, he has been happier than he usually is," Daisuke admitted. "It's all of that therapy. Suzuki works wonders, I tell you."

"So you're in therapy for your eating disorder?" I asked Yamato.

"I also suffered from mild depression. I'm getting over that, though. All of the nice little Prozac pills are helping me out."

"Yamato's dad killed his mom," Daisuke explained. "And Yamato saw it. It traumatized him, to say the least."

I stared at them, my eyes as wide as they could be. Yamato shrugged. "I've had ten years to get over it. Talking about it doesn't affect me anymore."

"I'm so sorry," I blurted. 

"Hey, don't worry about it. Like I said, it doesn't affect me anymore. I got to move in with my grandparents when my dad went to jail, and my grandparents are very nice, so it was cool, but then the kids at school started picking on me for looking feminine and, later on, for being gay." He shrugged. "But the school I go to now doesn't really care about that. We're art school kids, you know? There are more gay guys there than at any other school I know of around here. It isn't exactly a thing to shun around here."

I didn't quite know what to say after that. Really, what can you say after a confession like that? He just told me he was recovering from depression, saw his dad kill his mother, and that he was gay. I wasn't used to people spilling things like that on me when I had just met them. Looking them over now, I realized these kids had deep problems, and they probably had been aware of them so long that talking about them was a piece of cake by now. I looked at Ken. He was smiling gently at me, watching me take it all in. I wondered vaguely if he had brought these kids to talk to me on purpose, to sort of expand my horizons or open my mind.

"We had this class in school that was sort of like a therapy session. It was an exercise to get us into acting even more. I told the class about seeing my dad do what he did to my mom and I screamed just as loud there as I did when it actually happened. I even grabbed my chair and threw it across the room."

"What did the rest of the people do?" I asked, feeling very interested in these people suddenly.

"They didn't do anything. They had all had bad stuff happen to them, too. That's why we were all there. To listen to each other's bad stuff and get it off our own chests. In the end, it turned out that the people with the most anger and shitty pasts were the better actors."

Daisuke raised his hand. "My father used to beat me when I was younger. He would lock me in a closet for a whole day sometimes. Then, my mom would remember me and take me some food."

I didn't know whether to be more shocked at his father's violence or at the fact that he'd just told me all of that. 

"How bad did he hurt you?"

"Pretty bad. Got hospitalized once, because my head flew into the TV screen and broke it. Had to get the glass removed from my skull. That was the worst thing he ever did to me, though."

I had to put my hand over my heart, feeling as if it was going to beat its way out of my chest.

"I got all the ice cream I wanted in that hospital. It was cool." Daisuke grinned.

"And I'm sure that's all you thought about in that hospital bed. Making yourself look even more pathetic to get free food," Yamato said dryly.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" Daisuke gasped dramatically, bringing a hand up to his forehead so that the back of his palm lightly smacked it.

I felt a little bad part of my neighborhood peel away - the part that feels like you have to judge people and you have to look and act just like everyone else so no one notices you aren't normal. Sitting and talking with Daisuke and Yamato, I felt refreshed, knowing I didn't have to wear the mask around them. They had an attitude that was like 'like-me-or-see-if-I-care'. I liked them.

"This year's Christmas play is going to be so boring without you, Ken," Daisuke whined. "Your performance in it last year was awesome! Everyone wants you to come back and play the same role. What was it, again? The thing you had to be?"

"A floating angel," Ken replied, casting a side-glance at me. 

I turned to stare at him. I suddenly wanted to be able to watch that play.

"Yeah, that!" Daisuke continued. "Man, Takeru, if only you could have seen it. Ken was dressed in these white robes and standing up tall and fierce. He's such a great actor. I'll tell you, if you ever put a bug in another kid's juice when you were small or pulled on your big sister's ponytail or lied to your parents, just a look from Ken would have made you remember every little sin and regret every one of them. You would suddenly want to go and find the best-tasting juice in the world and give it to that kid. And you know what? He never even had to raise his voice once."

"Yeah, he turned to the audience and gave us this look - like he was going to make the whole freaking auditorium explode any second or something. Everyone straightened up when he looked at them, that's for sure. And that costume he had to wear - you'd have expected people to groan and say 'Too much faggotry', because, you know, even our school isn't above it all, but the second Ken stepped onto the stage, you just froze and forgot about anything else."

Ken was still staring hard at me, hand resting against his face as it held the straw to his lips. I thought he was hiding a grin. His eyes seemed to be laughing. 

"I want to see a video of that play. This isn't the first time today I've had a conversation about floating angels," I tell Daisuke and Yamato.

"I wonder if Uzumaki-san has a tape? I can ask for you," Daisuke offered.

"That'd be great," I said, smiling. "I want to make sure Ken doesn't have wings sprouting from his back that you can only see when the light shines off of them just right."

Daisuke laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised. Hey, Ken, give me your address and phone number, so I can find you later if I need you." He grabbed a pen from out of his pocket and tossed it to Ken.

Ken was still grinning widely at me and giving me that deep, searching look. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. 

"He wants you to believe he really is one of those things," Yamato told me. He giggled. 

I thought that would tear Ken's eyes away from me, but it didn't. He slowly lowered his hands and pointed them square at the center of my chest. When he spoke, it wasn't in the icy tone I'd been expecting, but in a quiet, soft voice.

"I was just noticing what you were doing while you were talking to Daisuke and Yamato."

I looked down. I hadn't even finished my salad yet. There was very little of it left, of course, but I was surprised I hadn't consumed it all right away. 


	6. In Which Takeru Suffers A Hurting Heart

A/N: I finally finished writing this. It's 2:08 in the morning, and I'm tired, but I finished it. I had to go back and read the entire story over again, and then read the actual Lani Garver book, before I figured out how I was going to do this. I think it came out okay. 

Same disclaimer, same warning. 

Note: In the last chapter, I seem to have messed up and put "Chapter Four" instead of "Chapter Five". Oops. I must have been half-asleep. Why is it I can only write this particular story late at night? 

Chapter Six: In Which Takeru Suffers A Hurting Heart

I sat on the only chair in my room, at my writing desk, staring hard at the paper I had just scribbled on. My eyes hurt vaguely because it was late at night. I could hear the TV in the living room. My mom was still awake. The pencil in my hand felt slick with sweat. My hand was starting to cramp from gripping the pencil so hard. My back felt tensed up because I didn't know if my mom was going to open the door the next second to tell me to go to bed or ask me if I was alright or anything. 

The poem on the paper did not come from normal Takeru. It came from the Takeru inside me that only comes out late at night, in poems and dark nightmares that are thick with blood and sweat and crying that only I could hear. This night Takeru loved to sit and wait somewhere deep inside of me, waiting for that vulnerable moment late at night when I lay awake, plagued with thoughts that scared me into keeping myself awake, fearing the dreams they would leave me with if I drifted off to sleep. 

The poem probably needed a stanza or two more, but all of the inspiration had flown out of me like a soul departing from a dying body. I had remained with my pencil poised in the air, my hand shaking slightly, and my body sweating. The fan was on high already, so I couldn't make it any cooler in my room. I felt like going into the kitchen, grabbing ice from out of the ice machine box, filling the bathtub up with ice cubes, and laying in them until they numbed me enough to keep the bad thoughts away and enabled me to fall asleep. 

I slammed my hand down over the paper to cover up the bad words and the dark, shaded in letters describing the hatred and rage that festered inside of me daily. Eating disorders can make a person very snappy and crabby. They can also drive a person insane, or at least that's what my mom told me when she was trying to get me to tell her what I really thought about. 

Closing my hand, the paper crumbled in between my palm and my clenched fingers. I stared down at my hand for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and sighing it all out, letting the paper go and straightening it out against the desk. I folded it four times and took it to my closet. After it was safely inside of my box and placed in the back of my closet, I finally crawled into bed. 

The clock said it was nearing three in the morning. Was it really that late? My eyes suddenly felt heavier than ever and soon I couldn't keep them open anymore. When sleep finally claimed me, I was curled up on the edge of my bed, blankets hardly even covering me. 

~ ~ ~ ~

I finally got out of bed at around one in the afternoon. My mom was on the phone with who I was guessing was Hikari. She kept giggling and saying "I know" every few seconds, with various inflections each time she said it. 

"I knooooow...I know, right?...ugh, I _know_..."

I stared at her, standing in the hallway, in front of my bedroom door, knowing she wouldn't notice me standing there. I was waiting to see if she mentioned my name. I had caught her talking about me to Hikari behind my back over the phone more than one time in the past. She often chatted with Hikari and somehow brought the topic around to me, trying to figure out if there was anything about me I wasn't telling her. I hated how she couldn't trust me like that. Just because I had a stupid eating disorder, she thought I should also have a mental disorder or something. 

She seemed to be trying to figure out exactly what happened the night I got my head cut open. She was grumbling about "those damned wild boys", which is what she says when referring to Akito and Yukio.

I started walking back into my room, but then Mom noticed me and began calling to me.

"Hey, Takeru! Hikari says to stop being such a dork and get over here to talk to her!"

"Tell her I just fainted or died or something."

"Oh, Takeru," she sighed dramatically. 

She began to complain about me to Hikari, so I turned, stalked over to her, grabbed the phone from her hand, and went straight to my room, slamming the door behind me. 

I slowly let the anger drain from my body, calming myself and trying to make my voice groggy. I lifted the phone.

"Hello?" I asked in a rather good sleepy-voice.

"You were still asleep?" Hikari asked, sounding surprised. I usually got up much earlier than this, even on Sundays. I was usually up by eleven o' clock.

I was about to answer when she started talking again. I shut my mouth.

"Why didn't you call me at least once yesterday? We were all still worried about you. I mean, you only split your head open two nights ago. I haven't talked to you since we dropped you off that night."

I reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Oh, sorry. I forgot."

"You _forgot_? You forgot that you cracked your skull open?"

"I think you're making the wound worse than it actually is," I said calmly, rubbing one eye with my palm.

"You always forget!" she yelled, ignoring my last comment. "You're always daydreaming and your mind is always off God-knows-where and you never pay attention to me or any of the others! What is with you, Takeru? Why have you been so distant lately? And where the hell were you yesterday? I kept calling and your mom said you were supposed to be back soon, but you never came back."

I waited until I had a few seconds of silence to make sure she was done bitching. 

"Sorry," I muttered. I didn't want to tell her where I had been, knowing she'd get angry with me if she knew I was off with Ken. "I had to...go get my head stitched. I figured while I was out I'd better get my head taken care of." 

I felt guilty already for lying to her, but comforted myself with the fact that I really had done that, though I wasn't telling her the whole story.

"Does it look ugly?"  


I made a face, though she couldn't see me. "What do you think?"  


"You don't have to get bitchy with me," she snapped.

I was about to say something like '_I'm_ bitchy?', but I kept my mouth shut.

The guilt was really starting to get to me and I kept feeling the urge to spill to her about everything: Ken, the hospital, the doctors, the test, and meeting Daisuke and Yamato. 

I finally caved in and sighed. "You know..." I started tentatively, "that guy we saw at school, Ken Ichijouji?"

She paused for a second, breathing the name to herself again, and then said, "Oh yeah, the guy-chick."

I cringed slightly at the crude mention but decided to let it slide. "I sort of...went to the hospital with him."

I felt disappointed when she said, "Oh shit, Takeru. Ken Ichijouji?"

"Yeah," I responded softly. 

She was silent for awhile, which was something I didn't hear often. When she started asking tons of questions, I knew she was more upset about it than she was letting on.

"Forget that, how are you? Are you feeling alright? Is your head okay? Have you bled any more?"

I answered her questions carefully. I didn't want to make her mad and have her snap at me again. My head already felt like it had a headache coming on. 

I had been toying with the idea of telling her about my eating disorder for a long time, but now I doubted that she would take it easily. Would she freak out and tell everyone? Would she be able to keep it to herself? 

"Uh...what were you doing with him, anyways?"

I paused, contemplating telling her about the night I went to his house and slept there for nearly two and a half hours. I took a deep breath and began to tell her everything, from the point where I walked into the fast food restaurant - though I told her I really did go to the bathroom, so she wouldn't know I'd gone in to run away from her - to when I finally got home that night. I told her that he had told me he knew a place where I could get my head fixed up, instead of telling her he was taking me to see someone about my eating disorder. I knew that if I decided to tell her the truth about my bulimia, she'd be angry about my lying about this now, but I figured she would understand why I'd felt the need to lie to her. 

"So was his house...weird?"  


I felt both surprised and confused. "What? No. It was just like any other house."

"Did you meet his parents?"

"Uh, yeah, I met his mom."

"And how was she?"  


I blinked and stared at my wall blankly. "She was dressed in black rags and was stirring some weird, green, bubbly substance in a huge black cauldron."

"Takeruuuu," she whined. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"He's just a normal kid, Hikari. Quit being prejudiced against him, or however it is that you feel about him. Ken is cool, and I liked hanging out with him. He has a nice house, a nice mom, nice friends, and he treats me a hell of a lot better than I'm used to being treated."

"You met some of his _friends_?" she asked incredulously. 

Leave it to Hikari to completely miss the most important sentence in my speech. 

"Yeah, uh, they had tentacles, and-"

"Ugh, I'm never calling you in the morning ever again. If you aren't going to be nice to me, then I'd better just hang up and try to talk to you later, when you're in a sensible mood."

I hated the way she could turn things around and make me look like the bad guy. Like I had been the one being rude and judging her new friends and acting like I was better than they could ever be. I was about to tell her about that when she hung up on me. I put the phone back down and sighed. 

I rubbed my forehead, trudged back to my bed, and climbed in, trying to fall back asleep and forget I'd ever even woken up. 

~ ~ ~ ~  


"Why were you hanging out with that faggot, anyways, Takeru?"

I gave Taichi what had to be the millionth glare in his direction that day. I should have known Hikari would spill everything to everyone the first chance she got. I cursed myself for being so forgiving towards her and agreeing to meet them all for lunch in the café. 

My hand raised to shove another piece of my ravioli into my mouth, but I forced myself to only bite half of it off. My stomach protested vehemently and I did my best to ignore it. When I found the piece headed towards my mouth again a minute later I slammed my arm back down onto the table. Hikari jumped slightly and turned to stare at me oddly.

"What is with you today, Takeru?! Why are you being so weird?"

I raised an arm to cover my face, resting my hand on top of my head. I knew I was probably blushing. They had to all be staring at me now. I decided I needed to tell Hikari to try talking in a lower voice next time. 

"I'm on a diet," I said, saying the first thing that had come to my mind. "I'm trying not to eat more than my stomach really needs."

"Diet? You're skinny as fuck!" Taichi said, pointing out the obvious. 

Of course, with that comment, everyone started looking over my body, nodding in agreement. I blushed even more. I hated it when people stared at my skinny body. It made me feel so self-conscious. 

"So why were you with Ken?" Miyako asked in a much more gentle tone than Hikari or Taichi had used. 

"Getting my head stitched up," I replied. 

She smiled at me in a sort of way that made me think she knew we did more than just that. She was the only one that hadn't indirectly or discreetly bad-mouthed Ken yet. She even seemed like she would have liked to hang out with him, too. She probably just thought he was hot or something, though.

"Damned faggot," I heard Taichi again.

Something in me snapped and I turned to him, face set and hard. "What the _fuck_ is your problem, Taichi?"

He looked surprised, blinking and staring at me. He seemed to be at a loss for words. I didn't know if it had been because he hadn't been expecting anyone to get mad at him, or because I had just cursed and seemed angry with him. None of them besides Hikari ever saw me as anything but calm, quiet Takeru.

"What's my problem?" Taichi asked, losing the surprised look and replacing it with an angry look. "I should be asking you what your problem is, Takeru. How could you hang out with someone like that? After what he did?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked angrily. It felt odd to be showing such emotion in front of them, when it was usually me they vented to. 

"What he did to Yukio last night, dork. Didn't Hikari tell you?"

I stared at him, now myself at a loss for words. I turned to stare at Hikari, who gave me an apologetic, guilty look.

Taichi stopped looking angry and his face went back to that shocked look. "She didn't tell you?"

I went back to staring at him, shaking my head wordlessly. 

"Last night, we were all out on the beach, and then Ken Ichijouji walks up and starts picking a fight with Yukio. He started hitting on him and shit. It was pretty gross."

"What?" I asked loudly. I ducked my head slightly, trying to regain control of my voice level. 

"I'll tell him," Miyako said, sending Taichi a withering look. She turned to look at me, giving me one of her sympathetic you're-stupid-but-we-still-love-you looks. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Takeru, but Yukio nearly kicked that kid's ass last night."

"No," I said impulsively.

"I was there, Takeru," she said firmly, staring into my eyes, like she was trying to drive it into my head. 

I went back in my mind, thinking over what happened the previous night. Ken had told me he was going to stop by the library before heading home. I remembered that the beach was on the way to the library. He'd probably walked there, and then run into Yukio on the way. He had asked me if I'd wanted to go with him, but I'd declined, saying my mom was probably mad for never having come home. 'I should have gone with him,' I thought.

"Listen, Takeru, don't repeat that story about hanging out with Ken to Akito or Yukio, okay? I don't want to find out what they'd do to you for hanging out with him."

"He said he was going to the library," I said.

"And you believed him?" Hikari asked. She shook her head, sighing. "Sorry, Takeru, but he was just bullshitting you. Why the hell would he go to the library?"

I figured Hikari wouldn't understand Ken's love for the library, so I stayed quiet. I wanted to know exactly what happened between Ken and Yukio last night.

"Well," Miyako continued, cutting off any other comments on my blind stupidity, "we were all out on the beach. Yukio had gotten his hands on a case of beers, so we were drinking. He had drunk a pretty good amount when Ken showed up. We weren't with him when they started arguing, but when we followed the shouting, they were already fighting. Yukio did sound like he was drunk, actually."

"Yeah, he was so plastered-" Taichi began, laughing, but shut up when Miyako sent him a glare. 

She turned to me again, sighing. Taichi quickly said, "Sorry," to me, but he didn't sound like he meant it. 

"Why would he pick a fight with Yukio?" I asked out loud, wondering if maybe Yukio had made some comment about Ken's gay-ish appearance and maybe Ken had replied with something that had made him angry. 

"That Ken Ichijouji must have forgotten his brain at the hospital. Couldn't he have picked a better person to pick up than Yukio?"

I remembered that they had been claiming Ken was hitting on Yukio or something. I could not picture Ken trying to "pick up" anyone at all, much less flirt openly with someone he probably knew would not appreciate a male flirting with him. I laughed because it was the type of thing you do when you're faced with a situation you can't believe and you feel the strong urge to punch the person talking to you. 

"That's just a lie," I blathered. "Ken wouldn't be that stupid. He wouldn't try to flirt with a guy like Yukio."

"Sorry, but I heard it with my own ears," Taichi said. Miyako was giving him the let-me-tell-the-story look again. 

"No," I said slowly, trying desperately to get my mind to start working again. I needed to figure this entire thing out. 

"Are you calling me a liar?" Taichi asked angrily. Miyako held a hand up, as if telling Taichi to stop. 

He looked at her and gave a sort of growl, but he finally sat back in his seat, pouting. 

Miyako continued, "We ran right over, sensing a fight coming on. Yukio was slurring a little but he was telling Ken to not ever try anything like that on any of the guys in Odaiba ever again. He said to especially never mess with him or his brother, or any of his friends. And then Ken Ichijouji said, 'If you don't want anything, then you shouldn't be standing alone on a street corner, blowing smoke rings. Didn't you know that's a gay thing?' Then, Yukio yelled, 'This isn't the city, and I wouldn't know a fucking gay thing if I fell over it.' And then Yukio hit him, and Ken just turned and ran away. I don't think Yukio hurt him, because he didn't hit him that hard, being sort of drunk and all."

I soaked all of it in, rooted to my seat, my eyes slightly wide. I was fighting hard to keep as calm as possible. None of it seemed right. What Miyako said came out of Ken's mouth didn't seem like him at all. 

"Are you sure that's what they said?"

"Didn't we tell you we were right there?" Taichi snapped.

I didn't even rise to his snapping at me, just remembering the day before, when I sat with those art school kids and felt so welcome, knowing I wasn't the only weird one with problems. I thought of Ken caring about me so easily, doing his best to take care of me, even though he didn't even know who I was. I shook my head slowly. I felt angry again.

"I don't believe you," I said evenly.

"Takeru, listen to us," Hikari said, in that I-feel-sorry-for-you-being-so-stupid way. "We wouldn't lie to you. We're your friends. We've been your friends since long before you ever knew who this Ken Ichijouji kid was. I don't know why he would want to help you or anything, but he's not what he's making himself out to be to you. He was lying to you, Takeru."

"This just seems like Yukio twisting something around," I said suddenly. "He was probably gay bashing on Ken, and then Ken probably said something as if he were flirting with him, sarcastically or jokingly or whatever. He likes to be sarcastic, especially to people that put him down or insult him."

"Yukio's a bastard, we know," Hikari said gently, "but he did not start that fight. Ken Ichijouji did. Yukio wasn't gay bashing or anything. He was just defending himself. If he had been insulting Ken, he wouldn't have sounded so defensive."

I couldn't help but feel there was something seriously wrong with that story. I couldn't imagine my friends making up such an elaborate lie, but I couldn't imagine Ken saying or doing any of those things, either. I tried not to look horribly upset about all of it, needing to keep my calm mask on in front of my friends, like I always did. I couldn't help the sad and lost look in my eyes, apparently, because soon all of the girls were patting my hands and apologizing and trying to comfort me. 

"I'm so sorry we had to tell you all of this, Takeru," Hikari said softly, hugging me. "You needed to know, before he tried anything with you, or lied to you even more. I know you probably felt good about yourself trying to make friends with the new kid and all, but I think you should just forget about him."

I felt like I'd been smacked with a shovel. I put my head down, letting the bad feelings, disbelief, and disappointment wash over me. I couldn't think of anything else to say to try to defend Ken. A part of me dreaded that they were right. 

"We love you, Takeru," Hikari said close to my head, rubbing my back.

I sniffed and said, "I love you, too."


	7. In Which Takeru Learns The Truth

A/N: Oh gosh, I didn't like the way this chapter came out. It's too similar to the book. Argh. . .

Chapter Seven: In Which Takeru Learns The Truth

Later that same day, after we had finished breakfast and gone to school, I sat in my homeroom class. I was trying hard not to think about everything I'd been told that morning. I didn't want to sit there and puzzle over it for the entire hour. I especially didn't want to think about it because, two rows over and one seat in front of me, there sat the one person that I had been puzzling about. I stared at the back of his violet-indigo head for awhile, half-wanting him to turn around and meet my eye and smile at me, so I'd know everything will be alright, and half-wanting to not get caught, so I wouldn't have to look into those eyes and see any truths I didn't want to see. 

The story seemed to have gotten around the school already, because the guys sitting in the back row kept saying rude things to Ken all morning.

"Hey, Ichijouji," I heard one call, not loud enough to be heard by the teacher, but loud enough so Ken could hear him clearly, "blow me."

He laughed with his friends, but they shut up when Ken turned around to face them, staring hard into the eyes of the guy that had spoken to him. The guy stared right back, face set hard. I tried to keep from laughing because I knew what Ken was up to; the guy would not be able to hold his gaze for that long with Ken, because it's some sort of a rule that you do not stare into the eyes of a guy you and your friends suspect is gay, but if he looked away, he would lose the game. It surprised me a little that I'd been around Ken long enough to know when he was tricking someone with that quick, witty mind of his. Sure enough, the guy looked down, and Ken turned back around with a satisfied smirk. Not once did he glance over at me, and when the bell rang and he didn't wait for me or look at me, I breathed a sigh of relief, walking out of the classroom among the throng of kids wanting to get home already.

~ ~ ~ ~

I stared at the doorbell I was about to ring. Ever since earlier that day, when my friends had told me about Ken and Yukio, I'd been itching to hear his side of the story. I knew that his story wouldn't confuse me as much, since he speaks so clearly and doesn't talk bull about anything. Now that I was here, though, I was starting to have my doubts. What if his story was completely different and only confused me even more? What if I would end up having to pick sides, and what if I picked the wrong one? 

I forced myself to ring the doorbell and shifted nervously on my feet as I waited for it to open. Soon, Ken's mom opened the door with a smile.

"Hello, Takeru. It's nice to see you again. How have you been?"

"It's nice to see you, too. I've been good." I stepped into the house, looking around uncertainly before letting my eyes trail up the stairs. "Is Ken home?"

"He's in his room, honey," she said as she walked back to the couch, waving her hand at the stairs. "Go ahead."

I didn't need any more of a push than that. I sprinted up the stairs and practically ran to his room, but I stopped in my tracks when I saw his door was open. 

Ken sat on his bedroom floor, staring at his phone receiver, as if confused. He shook his head slightly and hung it up, reaching both hands up to drag down his face. He looked tired. 

"Ken?"

He made cracks with his fingers, looking at me through them. "Hey, Takeru."

He let his face go and shifted over on the floor as I walked to his bed and sat on it. He lifted himself up and sat on the bed next to me. His eyes were moving from side to side and he looked distracted, as if he were trying to figure something out.

"Something wrong?"

The phone rang and Ken sighed before leaning down to lift the entire thing onto his bed. He lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?. . .uh, yeah. . .uh, no."

He hung up and moved the phone away so it wasn't in between us. He shook his head and seemed to force his attention back onto me. 

"So, how have you been? Eaten lately? Thrown up lately?"

"Not as much as usual. That goes for both questions, by the way," I said, wondering what the phone call was about. 

"Good, good," he said, nodding his head and staring at the bedsheets. He remained quiet, and I didn't know what to say to him, so there was silence for a while. 

The phone rang again.

This time, he lifted the receiver and hung it up again right away. I turned to stare at it, raising an eyebrow.

"What's with the frequent phone calls?"

"Never mind that. So, we were talking about you."

The phone rang yet again. He sighed and lifted the receiver. His face suddenly grew bright and animated.

"Well, blimey, if it isn't me great aunt Marcie! How the hell are you? So sorry, have to go, give the kids my love!" 

He slammed the phone down. I stared at him, bewildered. He rubbed his face again and then looked at me wearily.

"Sorry. I can't concentrate right now. This isn't a very good time to be visiting me. Could you leave and come back later? It'll be a better time for talking then."

"Well, I'm not leaving."

He snorted in a sort of short laugh and turned to look at me. 

"I'm guessing you came over here to learn about last night."

I was surprised at the change in topic, but I squirmed a little at his being so blunt about it. However, by this time, I'd figured Ken wasn't the type to beat around the bush.

"Yeah," I admitted quietly.

He looked up at the ceiling, sighing. "Well, sorry, can't help you there."

"What?"

I stared at him. What did he mean "can't help you there"?

"I never defend my actions," he said, still staring at the ceiling. 

"Hikari said you were flirting with Yukio," I told him, to see what kind of reaction it would get.

"Huh, imagine that," he said, his face betraying no emotion, still staring at the ceiling. 

I started feeling frustrated. "If you don't tell me your side of the story, I'll have no choice but to believe what they told me!"

"Believe whatever you want, Takeru," Ken replied calmly. "I trust you enough to know what to believe."

This only got me even more confused. "Well what if I have absolutely no freaking idea what to believe?" 

"Then I suppose that's your problem."

"But the story they told me is so weird, I can't help but not believe it, and I need to know the truth."

"That's good, Takeru. That's good that you don't believe everything you hear," he snapped.

"Why won't you tell me what happened?" I asked, exasperated with him.

"Do you know what a convenient recollection is?"

I was tired of his changing subjects, but I played along anyways, knowing this had to be relevant to what we were talking about.

"No, I don't, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"A convenient recollection is a memory that a person recalls inaccurately, to unconsciously protect from guilt, anxiety, or unwanted associations."

"Okay," I said slowly, nodding. I waited for him to tell me where this came in. 

My eyes suddenly widened as it dawned at me. "So you're telling me my friends had-"

"I'm not telling you anything, Takeru," he cut in. He lay down flat against the bed, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose like he did when he was trying to calm down or concentrate. 

I began telling him the entire story about what my friends said happened the previous night. He listened, staying quiet, keeping his eyes closed, still pinching his nose. When I was done, he turned to look at me, actually looking interested.

"Smoke rings," he repeated. I deflated when I realized that was the only thing he seemed to have taken in. 

"Yeah, she said you said blowing smoke rings was a gay thing."

His eyebrows shot up and he rubbed his forehead, and I guessed he expected me to think of the smoke rings part as a convenient recollection. 

"Look, I'm tired, and I need sleep. If you don't need anything, could you leave and talk to me later on?"

I realized I'd been keeping him up. I remembered him politely asking me to leave earlier in the conversation, and I noticed the dark rings under his eyes. People had probably been calling him to hassle him all night long, if they'd heard about what had happened. 

"Okay then, but I'm walking off assuming what they said is right."

"Of course," he said, his hands covering his face. 

"I guess you must have just not known what you were talking about last night."

"That must be it," he said in a weird singsong voice, shrugging. 

I walked to his door, still staring back at him, waiting for him to call me back. He didn't.

"You asked Yukio for sex because he was blowing smoke rings."

"Yup, I'm just a mad rapist," he replied, and I knew how crazy that sounded. 

The phone rang yet again. 

"I'll just let my mom pick it up. Maybe he'll stop calling if she does."

"Who?"

It rang again. Ken looked at the door. "Is my mom home? Maybe she went out somewhere."

"What the hell is that all about?" I asked, pointing at the phone.

He shook his head, staring at it. He looked away from it. He obviously didn't want me to know. This only heightened my curiosity.

"Come on, Ken, you know you can tell me."

"Yeah, I know I can, but I don't think you'd want to know."

"Why not?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what's on the other end of that phone."

"Oh, believe _me_, I do."

He studied me for awhile, arms crossed over his chest, and then sighed. 

"Fine, you can pick it up, but you had better not blame me for ruining your life."

The phone rang a third time. I looked at it, and he looked at me. I couldn't contain myself after it rang a second time and I picked it up.

"Hello?"

At first, I couldn't hear a thing. I thought maybe they were just calling and not saying anything. I was about to hang up when I realized I could hear breathing. There was something odd about the breathing, though. It seemed to be quick, short breathing. Suddenly, all of these words and sentences were thrown at me, words that I'd hardly ever heard in my life, and never directed at me; words that made me blush and feel disgusted. The only words that were muttered that are fit to be put here in print were, "You're _mine_, Marcie."

I hung up as quickly as I could, my face contorted in disgust, my hand over my mouth. I sat back down onto his bed.

"Don't blame me for ruining your life," Ken said again. 

As if such a thing could completely ruin my entire life.

"What the hell was _that_?" I asked incredulously.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of phone sex," Ken said bluntly. 

My eyes widened. "You were-"

"Did it _look_ to you like I was having phone sex?!" he asked irritably. 

No, he hadn't. I felt my face blush and I looked away.

"Who in the world is calling you for phone sex? I mean, what kind of sicko does something like that?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, and even I heard the laughter in my voice.

"I'm so glad this amuses you so much."

"Sorry, it's just so freaky." I couldn't help but smile and wonder who the heck this guy was. "Don't you want to find out who it is?"

"I know who it is," he grumbled, turning over to face the wall. 

My eyebrows shot up. "You do? Who is it? How do you know who it is?"

He remained silent, staring at the wall. 

"Did he say his name? Or send you a love note or something?"

"Takeru, I'm not stupid. I hit star sixty-nine."

Then, I felt stupid. I laughed again, but quietly. "Whoever it is, he's a moron. Didn't he think of the ways it can be traced back to him? Star sixty-nine, caller ID. . ."

"I don't think he cares that I know," Ken replied. "I think he wants me to know who he is. He wants me to be scared of him. He probably thinks I'm sitting here, shaking in my little pink fuzzy slippers."

I gave his black army boots a pointed look. 

"Can't you call the cops on him?"

"Wouldn't be worth what I would have to deal with afterwards."

"Ken, you're making him sound like some big enormous brute."  


I guess, like anyone would, I got the stereotype in my head that some puny, feminine guy was the one calling. I wasn't prepared for the shock I would receive upon dialing star sixty-nine. 

It was Yukio and Akito's phone number. I knew Akito wasn't home at this time, since he had soccer practice with Taichi. My eyes practically bugged out of my head. That meant that. . .I slowly turned the phone receiver around in my hand, and if I had any doubts before, they were gone now. Sure enough, there was a small caller ID on the back of the receiver, and there, it said _Yamamoto, Kyousuke_. It was Yukio and Akito's father's name. It was followed by their phone number, which I had memorized from calling for rides from Akito whenever we needed transportation late some night. 

Ken's story was how I figured it would happen. He had been on his way to the library, and he passed by the beach, not knowing the gang were all there. He spotted Yukio lying down on the ground near the road, where he liked to lay down to give the passersby a scare late at night. He _was_ drunk after all, and Ken, being the nice kid he is, stopped to ask Yukio if he was alright. And Yukio opened his eyes, which Ken says were filled with something more than just alcohol - some kind of drug, probably ecstasy or coke - and he had asked Ken, "You that new kid around here?" Ken said yeah, and Yukio reached up and grabbed Ken, pulling him down onto him. I don't know the rest, because Ken refused to tell me what happened after that, but he showed me this little red mark on his chin that I had previously mistaken for a zit, and he told me it had come from the zipper on Yukio's jeans. When the gang had all started running over, obviously having heard the commotion and yelling out to Yukio, he had enough sense to bring the both of them back to their feet, and that's when he had started spouting off about how Ken had better leave all of the guys in Odaiba alone. 

I sat there and took all of this new information in, realizing that this story was much easier to believe than Kari's story was. I stared at the caller ID and hit the back button, and sure enough, Yukio's number was still there, reminding me that this story had to be the truth. 

"I don't know what the whole smoke ring thing was about, but maybe she had heard or read somewhere about it being a 'gay thing' and just conveniently recollected the fact as something she had heard me say." 

"But she wouldn't lie," I said to myself. I knew Kari couldn't keep a secret very well, but she was against lying, and never appreciated a liar, so I knew she had to have been telling the truth.

"I'm sure she totally believes what she told you is the truth," Ken said. "She wasn't lying. A lie is intentional."

"But why smoke rings? It just sounds so weird."

"Maybe not. Did she tell you there were three big guys there?"  


I sighed in relief, glad that the two stories agreed on something.

"Yeah, there was Yukio's brother Akito, my friend Taichi, and Taichi's friend from the soccer team, Kouya." 

"Does one of them smoke?"

"Yeah, Akito does."

"Well, first off, she wasn't as close to us as she told you. Those three guys were all over me and I doubt she could have picked up a very clear conversation among all of the fighting."

"Okay." I could accept that much from Hikari. 

"I only noticed her standing there when I turned my head to the side because Akito blew all of this smoke in my face."

I pounced on that. "Did you say anything to him about the smoke? Like not to blow it in your face?"

"Yeah, probably. I probably told him not to blow smoke into my face, or something like that."

I stared down at the bed, resting my chin in my hand, sighing to myself.

"Now do you see why I don't defend my actions? If you had come in here and I had just spouted off my side of the story to you, would you have believed me right away? Or would it have just confused you even more?"

I thought about that and admitted, "Yeah, it probably would have."

If it hadn't been for the phone call and the caller ID, I'd probably not have known whether or not to choose his word over Hikari's. 

"It's not as far out as it sounds, Takeru, to pull a sentence like that out of thin air and think it's what you really heard. People do it all the time. Like, even in court. They swear to tell the whole truth and then they say that a guy with blonde hair was actually a brunette, or a black jacket was really brown. It's just human error. They see the truth a little differently. It's like. . ."

He trailed off and got up to walk to his mirror. "It's like how I see my reflection. The cut on my face from Yukio's jeans looks to me like it's taking up my whole face."

I got up and walked to the mirror to stand next to him, checking it in the mirror. I hadn't even noticed it when I first saw him, and now, I could still hardly see it. 

"And it's like you, Takeru. When I look at you, you look so. . .incredibly thin."

I raised an eyebrow and looked down at myself. "Me? Are you kidding?" I grabbed a piece of my stomach and stared at the fat in my hand. "I'm so totally not thin."

"And that's the way you truly see yourself," Ken said. "You think you're fat. I think this cut is huge. Hikari thinks I said something about smoke rings. All of us believe it's the truth."

I stared at him, wanting to believe him, wanting to nod and agree with everything he was saying and just push it to the back of my mind, but I couldn't. Arguments kept surfacing in my mind. 

"But Hikari always tells it like she sees it. And she hates Yukio. If she thought Yukio was hitting on guys, she would laugh hysterically and then tell everyone she sees about it."

"But she didn't see Yukio force me down onto him. All she saw was him yelling that stuff at me. What would you have thought?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know. It's just so confusing." 

"I know." He rubbed his eyes. "I can't wait to get out of here again."

"Yeah, as soon as we graduate. . ."

"Graduate." He laughed. "That's cute, Takeru. It's not about graduating, though, it's about figuring out where you're going to go next."

I realized what he was talking about and turned to him. "You can't just run away again! No, you just can't!"

"Why not? Because you need me here?"

I looked away, blushing slightly, because that was exactly what I'd been about to say next. I realized how selfish that would sound. I knew that Ken was going through hell staying here in this town. 

Just then, the door burst open. Ken's mother walked in, carrying something in her hand that I couldn't quite see, but that looked like a magazine.

"Ken, can I speak to you in private?"

Ken blinked slowly at her. "Whatever it is, Takeru won't care, and I don't feel like getting up and going over there to talk, so you can just say it."

She looked over at me, and I was surprised to see the anger directed at me in her eyes. 

"Are you his new _best friend_?" she asked shrilly. "I thought maybe you'd be a good influence on him, not. . .not. . ." 

I stood up slowly, wondering what the hell gave her the right to say something like that. 

"Wherever we moved, it was always a girl that Ken befriended, either that or a feminine guy. When I saw you, and after I'd heard about you being a basketball player and all, I thought maybe it would stop."

I felt hurt, hearing her say these things, and not quite knowing why she was so angry at me. We hadn't exactly asked to be each other's friend, it had just sort of happened that way. She obviously didn't notice that we seemed to be troubled by something. I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn't find the words to say it. 

She seemed to sense my anger, because she instantly turned soft. "You seem like a very nice boy, but. . ."

She turned to stare at Ken, who was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She slowly lifted up the magazine, only carrying it by the edge, by the tips of her fingers. 

"I found this on the front porch." 

She flung it onto the bed and I turned to see it had fallen open. I gasped when I saw what was in it. There were two guys, doing something unmentionable, in some kind of a centerfold. Ken carefully sat up, glanced at it, closed it, picked it up the way his mother had. His mother didn't seem to see the way he was disgusted with what he'd just seen. 

"Are you starting in again?" she asked tearfully.

He made a sort of gasping sound as something dripped onto the floor from the magazine. It looked like snot. He dropped it from his fingers and laid his head back down onto the pillow.

"Yeah, I must be starting in again," he said in the same singsong voice he'd used on me before.


End file.
